


Harry Potter & the Children of the Gods

by XblackcatwidowX



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Annabeth is savage af, Bi!Harry, Demigod!Harry, F/M, Harry is a puzzle, Horcruxes, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Mystery, Voldemort won, percy and harry are bros, there's romance too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 23:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10057229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XblackcatwidowX/pseuds/XblackcatwidowX
Summary: Based during the Deathly Hallows and after the Heroes of Olympus series.When Harry, Ron and Hermione are fleeing the Ministry of Magic, Harry loses his way while apparating, and ends up splinching by a certain pine tree. Little does he know that wizards and demigods are very closely connected - both are presumed to be no more than legends. Maybe it was fate which led Harry to end up at Camp Half-Blood, where he may discover much…





	1. Chapter 1

**So, here we are, guys. If you clicked on this fic, you are probably a Harry Potter and Percy Jackson fan - this we share! I have always loved the idea of a HP/PJO universe, where either the seven go to Hogwarts or the golden trio end up in Camp Half-Blood. In this case, obviously it’s only Harry who ends up in Camp Half-Blood.**

**This starts during the time that the golden trio are running away from the ministry after getting the locket off of Umbridge. And it’s after the series has ended for Percy and his pals.**

**Concerning the pairings, while I am a Percico shipper, I promise to avoid that as people tend to prefer Percabeth - which is actually canon, lol. So I’m gonna go with the official pairings and all including Ron/Hermione, but I am highly tempted to create a new pairing: Harico (Harry/Nico)! Because I cannot abide by Ginny/Harry in this. Tell me what you guys think?**

* * *

 “Quickly!” screamed Hermione, extending a hand towards Harry as he stumbled back to his feet.

   He snatched a  quick glance over his shoulder and saw that the death eaters and ministry puppets were gaining on them. One grabbed at Harry’s now-oversized coat, and he whipped around to shove the man off.

   “ _Stupefy_!” he shouted, jabbing his wand in the wizard’s direction, the force of the magic shoving the the victim of the spell backwards a meter or two. Harry’s pausing in his sprint had allowed others to catch up, and so he began blocking forthcoming spells and shooting his own.

   “Forget about them, Harry!” roared Ron, who was already holding onto Hermione’s other hand.

   “Alright!” Harry shoved his wand away again and grabbed Hermione’s hand. Both of their palms were sweaty, so gripping on was difficult. Harry saw Hermione’s eyes close as her face screwed up - she was concentrating on the place in her mind, preparing to apparate there, except that Harry then felt a weight on his shoulder - somebody who planned on sneaking a ride with them.

   Harry made a split second decision, and he knew that Ron saw the resolve form on his face, due to the horror forming on the ginger’s face.

   “No, Harry-”

   Harry timed it perfectly in the half second that he chose to do it.

   “Sorry, mate.” He relinquished his grip on Hermione’s hand the moment that she and Ron vanished in an unfathomable blur. Another half second later, he whirled around, separating himself from the wizard behind him, who turned out to be Yaxley, just as Yaxley’s fist connected with the side of Harry’s face.

   Harry skidded back a few feet.

   He should not have apparated.

   The shock of the blow was causing his teeth to ring in his jaw, his mind to jump in a bewildered lurch. He was not in the correct mindset to apparate, yet he did. Anything to get away from that hellhole.

   What a mistake.

   He didn’t even have a location in mind - Harry still questioned later on how he ended up in the place that he did.

   On the crest of a hill, by a gigantic pine tree.

   Harry collapsed, disoriented and groggy, and he touched a hand to his chest. It felt warm and moist, and when he brought his fingers back, he saw that they were glistening with blood. Dizzy, Harry touched his cheekbone timidly with his bloodied fingers, and immediately his head started spinning.

   He fell back against the pine tree, his back pressed up against the bark, and did the only thing that he could think to do.

   He shouted out, praying that any higher power was listening to him. A higher power that would send somebody his way, lest he bleed out. Somebody who was not a death eater or snatcher or any other Voldemort minion.

   “ _Help_!” he screamed hoarsely, using the last breath of air in his lungs, before allowing himself to spiral into the sickening brightness that clouded his vision.

* * *

Percy was dozing peacefully in the sunbaked grass, reclined so that his hands formed a cushion beneath his head, and Annabeth lay with him, her head resting against his stomach. Ever since their last adventure had finally ended, after so long, she had taken up reading books on architecture again, and was reading one about the Romans or something. In honour of Camp Jupiter, Annabeth had said earlier on in the day.

   Percy yawned hugely, savouring the feel of the sun warming his face and arms, when he heard the shout.

   He bolted upright, knocking Annabeth off of him in his rush.

   It was distant, but it had been there.

   “What was that for?” Annabeth said, annoyed, but Percy merely held a finger up to keep her silent as he pricked his ears. Now, all he could hear was the chatter of other demigods and the tapping of footsteps around them and the lapping of waves.

   “Don’t ignore me, Seaweed Brain,” Annabeth said, dog earring the page that she had gotten to and peering at her boyfriend curiously. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

   “You didn’t hear that?” Percy asked, disbelieving, to which Annabeth huffed.

   “Spit it out already,” she said. “I’ve had enough surprises for a lifetime, you know.”

   “Someone shouted for help,” he said, shoving himself to his feet, and extending a hand to Annabeth to help her up. “We should go check it out.”

   “Are you kidding me?” Annabeth said. “We should at least tell someone where we’re going. Just in case it’s, I dunno, a trick? Wouldn’t be the first time.”

   “A trick?” Percy asked stupidly.

   “Gods,” Annabeth groaned, face-palming. “You can be so dumb sometimes, Perce. It’s what predators usually do. They isolate their chosen prey from the rest of its herd so that its more vulnerable.”

   “Huh?” Percy scratched his chin. “We’re prey?”

   “Are you kidding me?” Annabeth sighed. “I love you, but sometimes you astonish me with how right I am to call you ‘Seaweed Brain’. What I’m telling you is a metaphor.”

   “Um, okay?” Percy held his hands up in surrender. “Fine, whatever. We’ll tell someone where we’re going. Look, there’s Jason. Oi, Jason!”

   “Whuuuut?” Jason drawled back, heaving a sigh as he strolled into sight.

   “Percy heard a most mysterious cry for help,” Annabeth interjected before Percy could answer. “So we may be going on a wild goose chase to find the source of the voice - we just want to let somebody know that, just in case we’re kidnapped or something along the way.”

   “Wild goose chase?” Jason’s eyes lit up from behind his pair of glasses. “I love wild goose chases. Sounds fun. I’m coming.”

   “Is ‘wild goose chase’ the only thing you picked up from that?” Annabeth said, exasperated.

   “Probably,” said an oblivious Jason. “Oh, wait. I’d better let somebody know where we’re going just in case we’re kidnapped or something.”

   “He’s totally pulling your leg,” Percy sniggered to an unimpressed Annabeth, who folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her steely grey eyes.

   “Hey, Nico!” Jason called, drawing Percy’s attention to the shadowy figure lurking away from the sun. Nico always had this disconcerting way of shying away from the light so that nobody could find him, unless they picked up on the aura of death around him. Everything about him screamed ‘darkness’. Maybe it was the skinny black jeans that he wore, or the black t-shirt with the skull on it, or that ridiculous skull ring that he’d gotten from his dad. 

   “What do you want?” Nico asked flatly, without looking at Percy. Percy had thought that things would have been slightly less uncomfortable between them, but it really wasn’t.

   “If the three of us don’t turn up again within an hour,” Jason said, “then we’ve been kidnapped, alright?”

   “This isn’t a joke,” Annabeth put in scathingly.

   “Aren’t you guys a bit big for kidnapping?” Nico asked, his eyes flicking up and down Jason, then Annabeth, but in total avoidance of Percy.

   “Nah,” said Jason. “We have the souls of children.”

   “Okay then,” Percy said. “That’s kind of creepy, man.”  

   “Fine,” Nico interrupted, stuffing his hands into his pockets and merging back into the shadows. Percy couldn’t tell whether he was beginning to shadow travel or merely stepping back into a conveniently dark place. “Maybe I’ll keep an ear out for a kidnapping or whatever.”

   “Coolsies, Neeks,” said Jason, who had recently adopted the nickname due to being under the impression that he and Nico were suddenly friends - or the closest thing to a friend that Nico had anyway, Percy thought. He felt a twinge of pity, but turned back to Annabeth, who was tucking her book under an arm, and Jason, who had taken off his glasses and was polishing the lenses against his shirt with an annoying squeaky noise.

   “Come on then,” Percy said. “Let’s go. Whoever it was who shouted could be dead by now, you know.”

   “Wait a second,” Annabeth said, racing away towards the cabins, yelling over her shoulder, “Just let me drop off my book!”

   “We’re never going to get away, are we?” Percy said, eyeing Jason, who replaced his glasses on his face, content with his cleaning work.

   “Nah man,” he said placidly, and upon seeing Percy’s martyred expression, hastily added, “ _Women_ ,” as though to appease his friend.

* * *

 Percy, Annabeth and Jason had scouted the entire camp, but to no avail. No mysterious person who seemed to be in distress. No other ear witness to the voice. Percy wasn’t entirely sure whether he was going nuts by this time, an idea to which Clarisse encouraged wholeheartedly when they had a run in with her.

   “Maybe you are going a little bit bananas,” Jason suggested as they all began head to head towards the creek for a break. “Hearing voices isn’t really natural, you know.”

   “Shut up,” Percy said, but without venom. “You’re worse than Thalia, sometimes.”

   Jason laughed, and then Percy noticed Annabeth frowning.

   “Speaking of Thalia,” she said, “remember how we found her by the pine tree, all those years ago?”

   “Not really,” Jason said, and Percy hit him on the arm.

   “Yeah,” he said. “What about it?”

   “Well,” Annabeth said, “what if somebody’s there at the border, by the pine tree? We haven’t checked yet.”

   “Ah,” said Percy, snapping his fingers. “Good idea, Wise Girl. We should go there, shouldn’t we?”

   As usual, Annabeth proved to be correct, and it was a good thing too.

   As they neared the top of Half-Blood Hill, Annabeth leading the way, Percy watched as her back suddenly went ramrod straight, before she broke into a sprint.

   “What is it?” Jason called after her, quickening his pace and it was then that Percy saw as well.

   He froze.

   A body, slumped against the fat roots of the pine tree, and there was Annabeth, leaning over the body.

   It was so much like last time, when Thalia had been found, that Percy’s hair almost seemed to bristle as he sensed the danger.

   “Oh, Gods,” he heard Annabeth chanting as she crouched over the body, almost afraid to touch. “Oh Gods oh Gods oh Gods. Guys, h-he’s bleeding everywhere!”

   Well, that was different from last time. It broke Percy’s trance, and he hurried over to his two companions’ sides.

   The young man couldn’t have been any younger that Percy, and had a head of messy black hair and round glasses. There was blood smeared on his face, alongside a stark purple bruise, and his skin was deathly pale. But the real issue lay in that blood was gushing out of an injury in his chest.

   “We have to find the wound,” Percy said into the frighteningly still silence, broken only by the heavy breathing of them all.

   “Right,” Annabeth said, becoming suddenly calm and authoritative. “Find the wound. Identify the issue.” Her fingers scrambled to find the tear in the t-shirt, but found none.

   “Why is there no damage to the shirt?” Jason said, sounding as bewildered as Percy felt, but Annabeth merely shook her head, clicking her tongue, and unsheathed a dagger that she wore in a scabbard attached to her belt, then, with remarkably steady hands, sliced through the shirt’s material to reveal the damage. 

   Percy pressed a fist into his mouth to stop the bile from coming forth.

   Even through all the blood, it looked like no battle wound that he had ever seen. It looked as though somebody had taken a clean bite out of this guy’s chest. Annabeth was apparently think along the same lines.

   “It’s much too clean to have been a wild animal,” she said, “and besides, what wild animal do we have here that is capable of doing this to a… a…” she was unable to find a word to describe exactly what this guy was. A half-blood? A mortal?

   “Oh, it doesn’t matter,” she snapped, and held a hand out in Jason and Percy’s general direction. “Quickly, it’s bleeding too fast. We need to allow the platelets time to cause clotting so that the leukocytes can counteract possible infection.”

   Percy glanced at Jason dumbly, who shrugged. Annabeth glanced back over her shoulder and noticed their exchange.

   “It’s basic biology!” she said crossly. “Just… someone, give me your shirt.”

   Jason backed away, holding up his hands.

   “I know you secretly want Percy to do it,” he said, “so I’ll make it easier for you.”

   Percy glared at him, but still stripped his shirt and tossed it to Annabeth, who didn’t even have the time to blush as she balled up the orange Camp Half-Blood shirt and pressed it against the gushing wound.

   The young man gave an almost imperceptible groan.

   “This is more lesion than laceration,” Percy could hear Annabeth mumbling to herself, and decided not to question it.

   “Should we try to ask him something?” Percy asked Jason, who raised an eyebrow and sucked at his teeth.

   “You can _try_ ,” he said.

   “No, it’s a good idea,” Annabeth said. “Jason, go get help. Should have done this ages ago. Find Nico, get him to shadow travel here and bring this guy back with him. Then tell Chiron what’s happened. Go!”

   Jason jumped, then turned on heel and ran. Annabeth turned back to Percy. The shirt in her hands was now sopping with blood.

   “It’s not guaranteed that he’ll answer if we ask him anything,” she said, “but it may give us an idea of whether he is suffering from anything psychological as well.”

   “Like concussion?” Percy suggested, and Annabeth nodded, lifting a hand to push a lock of blonde hair from her face, leaving a smudge of red.

   “Exactly.” She turned back to the body and slotted a hand into the boy’s, before saying in a loud and clear voice, “Can you hear me? If you can, squeeze my hand.”

   There was a moment of silence, and then Annabeth turned her head towards Percy, smiling faintly.

   “I felt something,” she said. “He can hear us.”

   “That’s a start.” Percy lowered himself down to his knees on the boy’s other side, and then said, mimicking Annabeth’s clear tone, “Can you tell us your name?”

   There was quiet, so he lowered his ear so that it hovered just above the boy’s mouth.

   Ah. There it was again. It was very breathy, but it was a response all the same.

   “Arnold,” Percy repeated, relaying it to Annabeth. “I think he said Arnold.”

   “ _Arnold_?” Annabeth said. “Are you sure?”

   “Positive.” Proud of his discovery, Percy persisted. “Are you a demigod, Arnold?” he asked, earning a warning glance from Annabeth. There was a still quiet again.

   “Careful, Perce,” Annabeth whispered. “He may be mortal, you know.”

   “I don’t believe that for one second,” Percy said. “If he was an ordinary mortal, he couldn’t have gotten right to the camp’s border.”

   “All the same,” she said, “exercise caution.”

   Percy repeated his question, his ear still close to Arnold’s mouth.

   “Wait, he’s saying something,” he said, excited, and then he felt the blood draining from his face as he recognised the word.

   Slowly, he straightened, mouth moving but with no words leaving it. Annabeth watched him, her eyebrows dipping downwards.

   “What did he say?” she asked. “Is he a demigod?”

   “Oh no,” Percy breathed, meeting her gaze. “Oh no no no no no. I believe that he called himself… a wizard.”

   “Wizard?” Annabeth paled as well, and looked down at the boy who had once seemed so innocent, and now came off as nothing but sinister. “That’s not possible, Percy.” Her eyes flashed back up to the Son of Poseidon’s face. “Is it?”

* * *

  **Well, that was incredibly fun to write. Hope you had fun reading it!**

**~Black Cat Widow~**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello hello! Thanks for any evidence that you left behind of ever actually visiting this story! We all know that comments and kudos are basically virtual biscuits.** **Sorry for typos and such. I’m a terrible person and cannot be bothered to edit.**

* * *

_“Wizard?” Annabeth paled as well, and looked down at the boy who had once seemed so innocent, and now came off as nothing but sinister. “That’s not possible, Percy.” Her eyes flashed back up to the Son of Poseidon’s face. “Is it?”_   
****

* * *

Percy had been pacing further down the crest of the hill for the past few minutes, barely even noticing the chill of the shade on his bare skin as the sun was set behind a heavy cloud. He was busy trying to digest what Arnold had said.

“ _Wizard_.”

The first thought that crossed Percy’s mind was that there was no such thing as wizards. And then he felt horrible, like a hypocrite, to be thinking that. After all, he was a demigod, and demigods weren’t supposed to exist either.

He then heard a noise, back up where Annabeth and Arnold were. The sound of a pair of feet.

_Nico._

Percy rushed back up the hill to see Nico remove Arnold from Annabeth’s care and shadow travel them back to camp, but he froze when he saw the expression on Nico’s face as he looked down at the body. There was a mute horror, a horror that Percy could not understand.

Percy cleared his throat noisily to get Nico’s attention.

Immediately, the Son of Hades’ head whipped up to stare at Percy, almost disbelieving, before back down to Arnold’s face and then back up again. Annabeth merely looked tired as she rocked back onto her heels to allow Nico to room to collect the body.

“Jason told you?” she asked. Nico blinked at her.

“Yeah,” he said. “But I didn’t think that he was being serious when he said…” he trailed off.

“You’d better hurry,” Percy said, to which Nico gave a single tight nod, hooked his arms beneath Arnold’s armpits and dragged him into the shadows that were collecting behind him.

Then they were gone.

Annabeth stood, looking down at her bloodied hands.

“Sorry about the shirt,” she said flatly, to which Percy gave an unsteady laugh as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Arnold needed it more than I did,” he said, before frowning. “I don’t understand what Nico meant.”

“About what?” Annabeth turned so that they were facing each other.

“What was it that Nico didn’t think that Jason was being serious about?” Percy looked down at Annabeth, though without really seeing her. “What’s so hard to understand about us finding a body?”

“Oh, Percy,” Annabeth sighed, looking at him gravely. “You can be so blind sometimes.”

“Gods.” Percy pressed a palm against his forehead. “What did I miss now? Let me guess - he’s Nico’s long lost brother or something?”

“Close,” Annabeth said, with the hint of a smile as they began walking back. “But seriously - we all saw it. Me, Jason, Nico. Everyone but you. That boy - Arnold - forget that he said that he’s a wizard.”

“Hard to,” Percy muttered, but then Annabeth whirled on him and jabbed a finger at him, taking him by surprise.

“He looks _just like you_ ,” she said. “It took both Nico and I by surprise. I might have thought that he was _you_ , except that you were right behind me.”

“Wait a second,” Percy said, astonished. “Hold your horses. You think that we look the same?” 

“Well, it’s a bit difficult to tell while one is unconscious,” Annabeth said, a line forming between her eyebrows, “but there are very obvious similarities, you know.”

“Oh well,” Percy said, trying to smile. “Then we’ll have two of me walking about camp soon enough. Lucky you.”

“If he lives, anyway,” Annabeth said grimly. “That’s not a good state that he’s in.”

“Hm.”

“But don’t you see, Percy?” Annabeth cried, turning back to him. “Things just calmed down, and suddenly this Percy-Jackson-lookalike turns up? It’s bad news, don’t you think?”

“I-” Percy cut off as it occurred to him what Annabeth was thinking. “Oh. I see.”

“ _Yes_.” Annabeth peered up at him, eyes bright with worry. “What if he’s another son of of the sea god?” 

They fell into a meditative silence as they continued along, Percy considering the probability of having another brother all the while.

* * *

He was floating in a sky of pure white.

But he wasn’t alone.

Faces.

Why were there so many faces, blinking in and out, or was that his consciousness that was blinking?

And why was there a centaur? Harry remembered that centaurs weren’t huge human fans. Nor muggle fans, definitely not, so why was there one here with the muggles…?

Harry decided to stop thinking about it. He was just too tired. But whenever he thought this, another issue arose in his mind. Such as, Ron and Hermione. Had they gotten away? Had they been caught? Had _he_ been caught? And then, there was also the fact that the name ‘Arnold’ kept on floating around him. What was with that? And his face - it stung, from where that ministry wizard had taken a swing at him, but the pain was nothing to his chest. Harry felt certain that there was a gaping hole there or something. Anything to account for that inexplicable agony.

“Ambrosia and nectar,” somebody was saying. “He needs ambrosia and nectar.”

“But he might not be a half-blood,” a deeper voice countered. “If we feed that to him and he is merely a mortal, then he’ll die.”

“Don’t you understand, Chiron?” another voice said - a female this time. “If we feed it to him and he’s a mortal, he’ll die, yes. But if we don’t feed it to him, he’ll die anyway. We need to take the risk.”

The original voice, the one who had recommended this ambrosia and nectar in the first place, said, “There’s a very high chance that he’s a half-blood, if he was by the border. No mortal could find their way there.”

“True,” the deeper voice - Chiron - said, before heaving a sigh. “Arnold’s life does hang in the balance.”

Poor Arnold, thought Harry.

“I suppose it is a risk that we must take,” Chiron continued. “His condition is only worsening, after all. My, this boy is like your charge, isn’t he, Percy, Annabeth? Ambrosia, then. Oh, look, you already had it prepared.”

There was silence, and I felt something probing at my lips. It was cool - metal?

“I hope that this will make you better, Arnold,” the female voice said heavily - Annabeth, was it? “You must eat it.”

Harry wanted to tell her that she had come to the wrong person - he wasn’t Arnold, and this Arnold person sounded as though he needed this ambrosia a lot.

But then the ambrosia ended up in his mouth, and it tasted just like treacle tart - the one at Hogwarts that he had never grown sick of, not in his six years there. He found himself devouring it - even if he was somehow unconscious, which he couldn’t quite understand. It was as though he was in his body, but with no control over it anymore.

“This is bad,” the one called Percy muttered, and that was the last that Harry heard before he drifted back into his sky of white.

* * *

When Harry woke up, he properly woke up - his eyes opened.

He noticed two figures in the room with him, but without his glasses, was practically blind. He floundered around for them, making an excellent first impression on the two currently present, he was sure, as he finally recovered his glasses from a table by his bedside and slid them onto his nose, feeling surprisingly clear-headed and awake - a rare feat for a person who just woke up from a coma-like state.

Harry was greatly relieved when he saw that the two in the room were fast asleep, meaning that they had not witnessed his flapping around like a drowning pelican. He then felt a twinge of pity - they were sitting on the floor with their backs to the wall. Not comfortable. Of course, Harry knew a lot about uncomfortable. He had grown up the first eleven years of his life uncomfortable.

Stifling a yawn, Harry took the spare moments to observe the boy and the girl, the girl’s head resting against the guy’s shoulder.

They looked to be about his age, he thought. The guy looked to be pretty tall, tan and lithe like a surfer. He wore an orange t-shirt with the initials _CHB_ printed across it, and a beaded leather necklace around his neck, and had black hair that could have rivalled Harry’s own hair’s messiness. He looked cool, even asleep, in a star-quidditch-player-and-captain way. The way that Cedric Diggory had seemed, back when he was alive. A lump formed in Harry’s throat, but he moved on to the girl.

She was pretty - beautiful, even. Curley blonde hair, which had obviously seen the sun plenty, and there was an almost serious set to her face, the way that Hermione got whenever they had an exam, or homework… or class in general, Harry supposed. The blonde girl wore an orange t-shirt like the guy’s, which emphasised her lean, athletic frame, and also wore a leather necklace, though it was tucked into her shirt so that Harry couldn’t see the beads - if there were any.

They looked like they could be muggles.

Harry lifted a hand to scrub at his face, except that a sting of pain shot through his chest. He looked down over himself for the first time, wincing. He must have splinched when he apparated, judging from the layering of bandages across his bare chest. He wouldn’t be able to apparate again for a little while, if he wanted to be able to heal up again.

He fell back again, pressing a hand against his face at his uselessness - only to yelp loudly, bringing the girl back to the waking world. He’d forgotten about taking a punch to the face, but he couldn’t forget now, not with it throbbing as if a bludger had thwacked him in the side of the head.

The girl blinked open eyes that were a startling grey, and Harry met her gaze clear on, unsure of whether he was meant to run or not.

“You’re alive,” the girl said, without really processing her words as she stifled a yawn and made to go back to sleep, except that her eyes suddenly widened, and she looked at a frozen Harry clearly now.

“ _Di immortales_ ,” she breathed, and then said more loudly, “You’re _alive_!”

It was truly impossible to tell whether she was dismayed or relieved, but either way she shook the guy next to her awake.

“He’s alive,” she whispered as the guy jerked away, looking around in bewilderment before apparently remembering where he was.

“I’m alive,” said Harry, trying to keep his confusion at bay. “Shouldn’t I be?”

“And you’re…” the guy quirked a brow, looking amused, “English.”

“And you’re American.” Harry stared. “I haven’t met an American before.”

“You haven’t met an American in America?” the girl stood, scraping her hair back into a ponytail, the guy standing with her. “That’s… unusual.”

“America?” Harry frowned. “I’m in America?”

“Yeah.” The guy didn’t bother to elaborate, as if people were always turning up and not realising what country they were in. His eyes - an unforgettable, violent shade of turquoise - were incredibly bright as he peered at Harry. “So you _are_ a half-blood.”

“Yes,” Harry said, growing excited. So they weren’t muggles - the girl was a witch, and the guy was a wizard! Unless they were squibs. “Um, how did you guess?” Had they seen his wand? But that wouldn’t explain how they knew that he was a _half_ -blood. He could have just as easily been a muggleborn, or a pureblood.

“If you weren’t,” the girl said, “you’d be dead after eating the ambrosia.”

“Oh.” Harry had no idea what she was talking about, but he didn’t question it. Maybe it was a weird American thing.

“So, do you know who your dad is?” the guy asked, and there was something nervous in his expression - as if Harry might say something which would cause the world to detonate.

“James Potter,” Harry said, timid now. Now that he thought about it, he was surprised that none of them had leapt on him about being Harry Potter, or the Chosen One. Not that he wasn’t grateful, but maybe they were testing him, to see whether he was who they thought he was, before they could call in the death eaters or something. All that it would take was the word ‘Voldemort’ aloud. Harry became abruptly cautious.

“How about your _mom_?” With the word ‘mom’, the girl turned to glare at the guy, which Harry didn’t understand.

“Lily…” said Harry, dejected. “Lily Potter… Evans…”

“Interesting,” the girl said, narrowing her eyes at Harry, though not in a nasty way - more pensive. As though there was something to his words that she didn’t quite believe. Harry was no longer quite so sure that this was a trick.

“This might be a sensitive question, sorry _,_ ” the guy interjected hurriedly, “but do you _know_ both of your parents? I mean, are they both… alive or something? Or is there any weird story about either of them being missing?”

“I’m an orphan,” said Harry flatly. “They’re both dead.”

“Oh,” the guy said, embarrassed, lifting a hand to cup the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

“They died when I was one,” Harry said, shrugging as if he didn’t care, though he most certainly did. He avoided both of their gazes. “I never really knew them, so…” He didn’t even _remember_ them, more like.

“It makes sense, though,” Annabeth said. “Makes your being a half-blood even more believable, even if you don’t know which one of your parents is an Olympian…” she snapped her fingers suddenly.

“Olympian?” Harry said, as though it was a different language, but the girl paid little attention to him.

“But it was ingenious to give you names for _both_ of your parents, you know? You would have been very unsuspecting of your true heritage, which is probably why you have gone so long with no monsters coming after you or anything.”

“ _Monsters_?” Harry held up a hand. “What are you _talking_ about?”

“I know,” the guy said, grinning in an almost mischievous manner. “It was pretty confusing my first time, too.”

“Wait,” the girl said. “We haven’t even introduced ourselves. I’m Annabeth Chase, Daughter of Athena.”

“Percy Jackson,” the guy said. “Son of Poseidon.”

“Athena?” Harry repeated. “ _Poseidon_?”

“At this point,” Annabeth said, “you’re undetermined, but I have my suspicions… oh, speaking of, we should probably call Chiron in.”

She went over to open the door, and sunlight streamed in. Harry could see a veranda outside.

“Chiron!” she called. “Arnold’s awake!”

“Now, wait a moment,” Harry said crossly. “Stop with the bloody ‘Arnold’ thing. First of all, my name is _Harry_.”

“ _Percy_!” Annabeth said, to which Percy blushed. “I distinctly remember you saying that you were _positive_ that he said ‘Arnold’!” 

“I thought you _did_ ,” he mumbled, but Harry was just getting started. In the span of things, he didn’t care about whether or not he was identified with the wrong name.

“Second of all, I don’t know why you seem to think that monsters should be after me,” he said, his voice rising, and he sensed a wind beginning to stir around him, the way it did when his magic became aggressive, “and thirdly, why in _Merlin’s_ name are you going on about Greek gods? I may have been out for a few hours, but I am not nuts, you know!”

Done, he paused to catch his breath. The breeze settled back outside again. It was surprisingly easy to get winded when you had a chest injury.

“Four days, actually,” Annabeth said indifferently, as though being in a coma for four days was a normal occurrence here. She didn’t bother to turn around from leaning out the doorway. Harry felt abruptly weak in the knees, even if he was lying down.

“ _Four_?” He felt torn between going on another rampage, blacking out to add another day to that number, or just blinking stupidly. He finally settled for the latter.

“Are you done?” Percy said, trying not to smile.

“Yeah,” Harry said.

“It was pretty impressive, while it lasted.”

“Thanks, mate.”

“No worries.”

“Here comes Chiron,” Annabeth said, backing out of the doorway and casting a glance over her shoulder. “He’ll explain everything to you.” But there was still an almost weary cast in her eyes as she looked at Harry.

“He might come as a bit of a shock to you,” Percy warned Harry, right before Chiron came into the room.

Chiron turned out to be the centaur who Harry thought he had seen in his unconsciousness. His upper half was a man, with a scraggly brown beard and brown hair, and his lower half was a majestic white horse. Harry felt abruptly uncomfortable lying in bed, and made to try to feebly stand as the centaur came in. The centaurs who lived in the Forbidden Forest were proud, and they were to be respected. Harry did not feel respectful in bed.

“You must be Arnold,” Chiron said, and Harry flushed, sending an irritated look in Percy’s direction.

“It’s actually Harry, sir.” He tried to pull himself out of bed to stand, bow, whatever, but Chiron held up a hand.

“Please, remain in bed, dear boy,” he said. “You have been through much. And you may call me Chiron - there is no need for this ‘sir’.”

“Yes, sir-” Harry hurriedly corrected himself. “I mean, Chiron.” He could see Percy and Annabeth exchanging shocked looks in the background, but did not pay them any attention.

“I must observe, though,” Chiron continued, peering at Harry, “that you do not seem particularly surprised to be seeing a centaur for the first time. No shock factor?”

Obviously, shock was the standard reaction. Harry laughed weakly.

“I’m acquainted with centaurs,” he said, and Chiron’s eyes abruptly darkened, as if he saw something that hadn’t been there before. Harry persisted anyway. “Not all friendly, though. At my school-” he began, but saw the most subtle shake of Chiron’s head and fell quiet.

“Percy, Annabeth,” Chiron said, turning toward the other two present in the room, “if you would be so kind as to check on Mr. Di Angelo for me? I’m still a little worried about him.”

“Sure, Chiron,” Percy said, grabbing Annabeth’s hand and pulling her out of the room after him - her expression said that she would have given much to have stayed in the room to overhear the conversation that was about to come to pass.

“Mr. Di Angelo?” Harry questioned, feeling slightly more settled with the two strangers out of the room.

“One of our campers,” Chiron said promptly. “He was the one to transport you back here from the border of the camp, and he has been slightly… _unsettled_ ever since. You will most likely meet him once you leave this room.” He turned to gaze out the window. “For your information, you are currently lodging in the Big House, until we decide where would be appropriate to place you. But things seem a little more complex than usual here, Mr. Potter.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “‘Harry’ would be fine, Mr., er, Chiron.”

“Of course,” Chiron said, turning his head towards Harry slightly, so that Harry could see the twinkle in his eyes, right before it vanished again. “But can I assume that you are a student at Hogwarts?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “Was, I mean. Uh, how did you know?” It seemed like a pretty stupid question to him now, because everybody in the wizarding world knew about the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the most wanted wizard in the world. But in his short amount of time in that room, with Percy and Annabeth’s lack of recognition for him, Harry had almost forgotten who he was.

He wanted to hex himself for being so stupid as to let his defence down.

“Because you mentioned centaurs, at your school.” Chiron sighed. “Believe it or not, but Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is the only magical school that is acquainted with centaurs. And also, I managed to piece together that by ‘Harry’, you are also Harry Potter.”

“Yeah,” said Harry. “I suppose that it wouldn’t take a detective to work that out.”

“I’m sorry to do this,” Chiron said, “but could I ask you to refrain yourself from mentioning to anybody else that you are a wizard?”

“Why?” Harry asked, abruptly sounding childish in his own ears.

“All in good time,” Chiron said. “See, this is a very new situation to me, Harry,” he continued. “Do you know why?”

“Um,” said Harry. “Sorry?”

“It’s because I am meeting you,” Chiron said, and finally turned to look at Harry straight on. “A wizard, who is also a demigod.”

“A what?” asked Harry, trying his best to maintain an intelligent voice, but probably failing horribly. He imagined that if Ron was here, they’d both be in the same boat, and it made him feel slightly better.

“All in time, Harry,” Chiron said. “But this may come as a bit of a surprise to you.”

“I’m pretty sure I can handle it.” Nothing could be as surprising as Hagrid bursting into the room at midnight on Harry’s eleventh birthday to deliver that news that Harry was a wizard, a somebody.

“The Greek gods are real,” Chiron said, “and either your mother or father is one. Half human, half god. Which makes you a demigod, Harry, or more commonly known as a half-blood.”

* * *

 

**Whaaaaat. Wizard AND demigod? Harry is a special snowflake, now isn’t he?**

 

**~Black Cat Widow~**


	3. Chapter 3

_“The Greek gods are real,” Chiron said, “and either your mother or father is one. Half human, half god. Which makes you a demigod, Harry, or more commonly known as a half-blood.”_   
****

* * *

“Greek gods,” Harry repeated. He knew some about Greek mythology. Enough to know that they weren’t meant to be real. Well, this _was_ equally as surprising, Harry supposed. If not, more so. Learning that magic was real was one thing, but learning that the Greek gods were equally as real? That was a whole different matter.

Chiron looked at him grimly.

“Yes,” he said, but before he could continue, Harry intervened.

“You’re Chiron,” he said, feeling ridiculous. “I’ve heard of you before, now that I think about it.” From his time as believing himself to be a muggle, anyway.

“You might have,” Chiron said patiently. “I trained many heroes who are famous in this time, such as Hercules and Achilles and Jason.”

“Brilliant,” said Harry, staring. Chiron moved on without dwelling on the subject.

“You see,” he said, “thousands of years ago, it wasn’t so rare to meet a person who was both wizard and demigod. It began when the world only harboured mortals - or muggles, as you call them. It was around this time that the gods began to, shall we say _mingle_ , with the mortals, thus creating half-bloods, or demigods. When a god of particular power has a half-blood child, they pass on some of their abilities, you see. Have you heard of Hecate, goddess of magic?”

“ _Now_ I have,” Harry said.

“Hecate is seen as a more minor goddess,” Chiron said, “but she certainly brought a new dimension to the earth when she began to have half-blood children. Her children were the first of the-”

“Wizards,” said Harry, becoming quieter. “I see.”

“But we have noticed a phenomenon with this,” said Chiron. “You see, when Hecate had children with an ordinary mortal, their child was simply a magical person - you call them a wizard, or witch. They ceased to be a demigod, though their mother was a goddess. However, when a god or goddess had a child with a wizard or witch, their child became both wizard _and_ demigod. It was most unusual. The gods decided to cease doing this many eons ago, because it put the resulting offspring in both terrible danger and compromising position. The wizarding world, or the godly world? You cannot have both. This is why I would rather that we keep it secret that you are also a wizard. Your kind are not meant to exist anymore.”

It was only then that it dawned on Harry that Chiron was talking about what Harry was. ‘Terrible danger’? Well, at least he was already quite familiar with that. ‘Not meant to exist’? Well, the past six years, he had grown up into a wizard, which was not meant to exist, so what was new with this? He quickly moved on. 

“Hang on,” said Harry. “So those two - Percy and Annabeth… Percy said that he’s Poseidon’s, and Annabeth said that she’s Athena’s…”

“It means that Annabeth, daughter of the goddess of wisdom, is extremely bright,” Chiron said, “and Percy, son of the sea god, holds power over the waters and horses. He is exceptionally powerful, because of his parentage.”

“Um,” said Harry. “Wouldn’t _all_ half-bloods be ‘exceptionally powerful because of their parentage’?”

“I don’t suppose that you have heard of the Big Three?” Chiron asked gravely, to which Harry shook his head. “The Big Three are _supposedly_ the most powerful gods. In this case, we have the three original godly brothers: Zeus, Poseidon and Hades.”

“So, what’s their story?” Harry said, settling back into his pillow.

“It’s a _long_ story,” said Chiron. “Just as I assume that yours is, and I would much like to hear it.”

“You have _no_ idea,” Harry muttered, recalling his entire life story, plus some.

“Yes, well,” said Chiron. “I have been out of contact from the wizarding world for several decades, now. Things here have been very busy, see. But I suppose that it would be best for us both to come clean so that we are both on similar grounds by the time we’re done.”

“Sounds good to me,” Harry said. “I guess I’ve got plenty of time to kill at the moment.”

* * *

“We should find Nico, shouldn’t we?” Percy asked Annabeth as they strolled away from the Big House, where they had left Harry to Chiron.

“No point,” Annabeth. “Chiron obviously only said he wanted us to check on him in order to kick us out.” She shot a suspicious glance over her shoulder. “Something’s up, you know.”

“You think?” Percy said sarcastically, before softening his tone as he laced his fingers through Annabeth’s. “But what do you reckon it’s about?”

“Chiron cut Harry off when he started mentioning his school,” Annabeth said, and her fingers tightened on Percy’s. “He was most subtle about it, which only adds to my suspicions. I have a theory-”

She fell silent as the Stoll brothers came swaggering towards them. When they had all been young teenagers, Percy had always found the two to look almost identical, though they weren’t even twins. He’d half hoped that with age, they’d look a little more different from each other, but they still remained the same - tall, thin, mops of brown hair, upturned eyebrows, elven features, and that gleam in their eyes that all troublemakers had. In other words, the standard Hermes package.

“Jason’s been spreading word that we’ve got a new recruit for the past few days,” Connor said, as he and Travis began to circle around Percy and Annabeth, rather like sharks. Percy nervously patted his pocket, to ensure that Riptide was still there, in the form of a ballpoint pen. One could never be too careful when the children of the god of thieves were near. Of course, Riptide would just reappear in his pocket, but Percy didn’t want to risk it.

“And neither of you two seem to have been around lately,” Travis added.

It was true. Percy and Annabeth had taken it upon themselves to hang around Harry while he was knocked out, make sure that he was still breathing. His situation had been most delicate, though, granted.

“Jason’s got a big mouth,” Percy said, though wasn’t surprised. If it was him, he would have done the same.

“So is he your brother or what?” Travis said. Ah. Apparently, Jason had been going into a little more detail.

“We don’t know,” Annabeth put in, before Percy could snap back. “There are similarities between the two, of course, but now that he’s awake, you can tell that they are individuals.”

“We were always individuals,” Percy muttered.

“You can tell that they aren’t twins, then,” Annabeth corrected, to which Percy glared, while Connor and Travis sniggered.

“Hey,” Percy said. “You two can’t talk.”

“Whatever,” Connor said, grinning impishly. “It’s just that it’ll be interesting, having two Percys around camp.”

“He is not a second Percy!” Percy yelled. “His name is Harry, not Percy!”

“Chill, dude,” Travis said.

“Didn’t think that we’d ever have to tell the sea god’s son that, huh?” Connor remarked. “Should be pretty icy already,” to which the two laughed, while Annabeth covered her mouth with a hand to stifle a chuckle. Percy sighed.

“Seriously,” he said. “When you two meet Harry, you’ll see that the two of us look nothing alike.”

“You do, though,” Annabeth said. “You just look like the surfer version.”

“You’re not helping my cause, Annabeth,” Percy said uselessly as Connor and Travis left.

“I’m being honest,” said Annabeth as they continued on. “Here, I’ll list the differences that I observed already. One, he wears glasses, you don’t. Two, his eyes are green, yours are… more turquoise. Three, you’re tan, he’s not. Four, he’s British, you’re American.”

“That’s it?” Percy said in disbelief.

“Well, there are more subtle ones,” Annabeth said, “like your face shapes, your eyebrows…”

“This is ridiculous,” Percy muttered. “I swear, if he’s Poseidon’s…”

Annabeth laughed, pushing her hair behind an ear, right before sobering up again.

“But seriously,” she said. “I have an idea about what’s up with Harry.”

“Tell me, then,” Percy said, glancing at her expectantly, but Annabeth just clammed up even more.

“I should do more reading up on it, before I say,” she said. “It would be wrong to go around accusing people of things…”

“ _Accusing_?” Percy said, suddenly becoming defensive of the new guy, for no real reason that he knew. “What do you think he is, an escaped prisoner?”

“Honestly, Percy,” said Annabeth. “Why on earth would I think that he is an escaped prisoner? What I’m working on is little more than a hunch, but a good hunch at that, I reckon.” She looked at him meaningfully, and Percy couldn’t help slipping out a scoff.

“Is this about that whole ‘wizard’ thing?” He said. “Because if I mistook ‘Harry’ for ‘Arnold’, I don’t think that the word ‘wizard’ can very well be trusted.”

“I know, I know,” Annabeth muttered, dragging a hand agitatedly through her hair. “I just don’t understand…”

When a Child of Athena said that they didn’t understand, Percy knew that they would travel right into Tartarus if it meant understanding.

“Hey,” Percy said, grabbing Annabeth’s hands and knocking his forehead lightly against hers. “We’ll figure out what’s going on, okay?”

“Okay,” Annabeth agreed softly, closing her eyes, and they both stood in silence for a moment, before she said, “Should we go check back in on Harry?”

“Nah,” Percy said. “Chiron will probably just kick us out again if we go right now. Anyway, Harry’s not a kid. He’s our age, or older.”

“Fine, Percy,” Annabeth said, raising her eyebrows at him.

“I might go do some stuff in the arena,” Percy continued. “You coming?”

“I’d better join back in with my cabin activities,” Annabeth said. “And you know that I’ll thrash you even if I do come. Anyway, I want to catch back up with the others, find out the schedule again. Been a while, you know.”

“See you later, then,” Percy said, unsure of whether he was relieved or not that he made up his own activity schedules as he went along, and watched her walk away, before figuring to himself that ever since Chiron had suggested it, he was feeling more and more as though Harry was his ward - even despite the slight age difference. He shook the thought away, the way that a dog shakes water off of its pelt after taking a paddle in the ocean, and headed off in pursuit of a sparring buddy - preferably an Ares or Athena kid, who would actually make him perspire. He needed to sweat out all the toxins - badly.

* * *

“Well,” Harry said. “That was a _lot_ of mythology that I just caught up on.”

“Not mythology, Harry,” Chiron answered. “History.”

“Oh yeah,” Harry said, exhaling a breathy laugh. “Forgot about that part. When I look back at it, I realise how insignificant and petty my troubles probably seem to you - they’re probably _laughable_ \- seeing as how old you are and how much you would have watched come to pass.”

“On the contrary,” Chiron said, “I believe your troubles to be _most_ significant in the wizarding world, and they are certainly not any laughing matter, my boy. Your situation is most dire indeed, if half of what you’ve told me is true.”

“It’s entirely true,” Harry said stiffly, quite familiar with others finding his stories to be unfeasible and passing him off as an attention-seeker or simply off of his rocker.

“Oh, no, I’m not implying that you’re lying to me,” Chiron said hurriedly, and then began to talk almost to himself. “I’m just voicing how serious this is, with your Lord Voldemort loose, somewhere on earth… our half-bloods were made for issues like this… we should have been told… though Albus has always been a rather strange case, hmm…”

“Albus?” Harry interjected. “Dumbledore? You knew Albus Dumbledore?”

“I most certainly do,” Chiron said. “I have known him since long before he became headmaster - I knew him during his time with Grindelwald. Funny man, no? I have missed our conversations. They were most insightful…”

Harry looked down at his hands, a lump in his throat. He missed the conversations he’d had with Dumbledore too, more than he wished to disclose to anyone - not Ron, not Hermione, not Ginny. Over the past year, he’d become incredibly dependent on those talks, those meetings. But with Dumbledore gone… it seemed most surreal.

“How is Albus these days?” Chiron asked, still good-humoured. “Up to his usual tricks?”

“He’s dead,” Harry said quietly.

“Oh,” Chiron said, becoming instantaneously grave. “I don’t believe that you got up to this part of your story. You have more to say?”

“Not much more,” Harry said. “I just glossed over that part. I’ve been trying to come to terms with it for a little while now.”

So he told Chiron of Severus Snape’s unbreakable vow, of Draco Malfoy’s cabinet, of how when they had returned from taking the first horcrux (which turned out to be a complete hoax), Dumbledore had been disarmed by Malfoy, cornered by the death eaters, and then Snape had… Snape had…

“He begged Snape,” Harry whispered. “He said ‘please’. I remember.”

 _Please don’t do it. Please don’t hurt me. Please be the man that I trusted._ Harry never learned what Dumbledore would have said, if only he’d had more seconds.

Of course, he didn’t.

“I see,” Chiron said, when Harry had finally managed to choke out the last of his story.He observed him. “I assume that Albus and yourself were close?”

Harry was familiar with that question. He sometimes wondered, maybe, maybe… but he gave the same response, the same that he always gave, because in the end, nothing changed the fact that in truth, he had barely known the man.

“Not at all,” he said, voice surprisingly even, and Chiron looked at him closely, right before nodding his head as though he understood perfectly, and maybe he did.

Harry shifted his gaze, uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

“Well,” he said. “I will assume that you are in need of further sleep and rest-” he began, but Harry practically leaped out of bed to prove that he didn’t need it.

“No,” he said as his head spun like a top as the blood all rushed up there. “I’m… all good.”

“In that case,” Chiron said, though there was an amused glint in his eye as though he had never doubted that the conversation would steer this way, instead of Harry obediently going to sleep, “you should probably have some nectar, if you want to keep your strength up. I assume that you’ll want to have a tour of the rest of the camp while you stay here. How long do you plan on staying, if you don’t mind me asking?” The question was asked almost as though Harry had dropped in for a nice little chat, rather than accidentally apparating there while he was half-dead.

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “Until I can apparate again, and get back to my… hunt.”

“You speak as though you are a Hunter for Artemis,” Chiron said, and Harry grimaced. So he had been told about the goddess’s virgin huntresses.

“I don’t want to intrude for too long,” Harry went on. 

“You lost a lot of blood back there, you know,” Chiron said. “You can’t expect yourself to be better in a matter of days.”

“I can hope,” Harry said mildly, before shifting the entire conversation onward. “So, what’s nectar?”

“The drink of the gods,” Chiron said evenly, to which Harry laughed. “No, I’m being serious. I’ll go get it now. And you’ve already eaten ambrosia, the food of the gods, by the way.”

“I have?” said Harry, watching Chiron trot out the door, and then he recalled the taste of treacle tart - such a vague memory, and he smiled to himself. “Oh. I remember.”

“Here we are,” Chiron said, coming back into the room - the drink had been prepared surprisingly quickly, Harry thought, but decided not to question it. He chose instead to look at the drink suspiciously. It looked like chilled apple juice, but who knew what it would taste like. With his luck, it would most certainly not taste like pumpkin juice.

Chiron passed the glass over to Harry, and he took it, preparing himself for some disgusting taste that all things medicinal had - this ‘drink of the gods’ was meant to make him feel better, so it was technically medicinal, right? He grimaced, bringing the glass to his lips, even before the taste hit his taste buds. And he almost dropped the glass when it did, flinching involuntarily. It tasted just like butter beer - the warm, frothy bottles of it that you’d get from The Three Broomsticks or The Hog’s Head in Hogsmeade. Harry swore that he understood why it was the drink of the gods, now. And he was experiencing the strangest sensation - to have a warm drink sliding down his throat, with the glass still numbing his finger pads.

Harry placed the glass down on the bedside table when he had finished - this, he had drunk in a record pace. He felt only mildly disappointed that it was all gone, because he was too busy marvelling at how great he was feeling all of a sudden.

“Better?” asked Chiron.

“Whoa,” he replied, grinning broadly. “Can I drink a glass of that every morning?”

“I would recommend you didn’t do that,” Chiron said, conjuring up an orange t-shirt and throwing it over to Harry. “Here, put this on. Annabeth, sadly, had to mince up your old shirt to get through to your wound, so you’ll be wearing the camp shirt until you leave, if that’s fine by you.”

“Oh, sure,” Harry said, grabbing the shirt and pulling it over his head, before looking down at his chest to read it. It was the exact same as Percy and Annabeth’s - _CHB_ written in broad letters.

“Camp Half-Blood,” Chiron related. “Those are the initials.”

“Right,” Harry said, nodding his head. “I think this’ll be fun. Haven’t had a break in a while, with all this horcrux hunting and all.”

“Yes, well,” Chiron said grimly. “None of these kids have had a break in a while, either.”

Harry’s mind immediately cast back to all the stories of the past years that Chiron had told him, remembering that they were all _true_ , and all of these kids had indeed faced horrors, just as he had, and it was almost comforting to know that there were others in the world who were in the same boat as he. Almost.

“Well,” Harry said, surprisingly solemn. “Let’s meet them all.”

* * *

 

**Hmm, so Harry’s going off to meet the half-bloods (and Mr. D). Should be fun!**

**Comments/kudos/bookmarks/subscribers from all are welcome (or more than welcome)! Whether it be opinions, thoughts or constructive feedback (which is just a nice way of saying ‘dumping shit on the author’), file it in down below. Please don’t make me cry, though.**

 

**~Black Cat Widow~**


	4. Chapter 4

**Here we are, Chapter Four. Let us get on with the story, and you can expect some more of Percy from now on.**

* * *

 

_“Well,” Harry said, surprisingly solemn. “Let’s meet them all.”_

* * *

“Meeting up with the camp director is always first,” Chiron said, leading Harry out onto the veranda, “but be careful around him. He _cannot_ know what you are. To everybody else here, your name cannot be Harry _Potter_. It would be too easy to puzzle out who you are if you keep that name, camper or god alike.”

“O-kay.” Harry stretched out the vowel. “Why?”

“He goes by Mr. D here,” Chiron said, “but his true name is Dionysus.”

“Dionysus,” Harry repeated, trying to recall who the name belonged to. “Um, is he a siren?”

“No, he is not a siren, Harry,” Chiron said. “And I would not mention that you thought he was in front of his face.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Harry said to himself decisively. “Sirens are female.” 

“Dionysus,” Chiron said, “is the God of Wine.”

“God of Wine,” said Harry. “I’m about to meet the God of Wine. Also camp director.”

“He is most certainly camp director,” Chiron said, and there was suppressed laughter in his eyes, as though he knew something that Harry didn’t. “And most reluctantly as well. This occupation was Mr. D’s father’s punishment for him, for taking fancy to a wood nymph when they were specifically off limits.”

“And his father is…?” Harry began.

“Zeus, of course,” Chiron said. “Do not take this lightly,” he warned when Harry began sniggering.

“Sorry,” Harry said, abruptly pasting on the straightest face that he could muster. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Just behave as though this is all new to you. Maybe a little bewildered, still,” Chiron said, directing a critical eye over Harry, as though assessing him as to whether he could pull off a good act. He was quick to come to a conclusion. “Or not.”

They rounded the corner, and Harry almost cringed away, expecting a show of bright lights and magical sparkles or _something_ , but not this.

Not the plump little man, sitting there in a tiger-print Hawaiian shirt with his feet kicked up onto the table, sloshing around the liquid in his can of half-emptied Diet Coke. Something about his bored expression reminded Harry of a whiney, spoiled little boy who was never pleased with what he had. Or in other words, the Dudley who Harry had grown up with.

He almost laughed.

The first god that he met - reminded him of Dudley Dursley. It gave a whole new meaning to ‘god-like’.

“Ah,” the man said, his eyes alighting on Chiron as he refused to acknowledge Harry entirely. “There you are, old boy. I was wondering where you had gotten to. I had to cancel our game of Pinochle when that Annabelle girl called for you. Convenient for you, too. I was so close to winning that game as well.”

“Annabeth, Mr. D,” Chiron corrected, to which Mr. D sighed.

“You already know what I’m going to say to that,” he said. “ _Whatever_.”

Chiron persisted with what Harry predicted was already a doomed conversation.

“I went to have a chat with our newest member of the camp,” he said, mentally shoving Harry forwards, so Harry did so, stepping upwards. 

“Oh, another camp brat,” Mr. D said, breathing inwards heavily though his nose as he looked Harry up and down with obvious disinterest. Well, it was settled. Harry did not like the camp director at all. “Older than the age that they usually arrive, I see. How old are you, boy?”

“Seventeen,” Harry said, unable to keep the edge from his voice. “Sir,” he added, before the man could jump down his throat about it, which he most certainly would. Harry was familiar with those types of people.

“Not that I really care, but name?” Mr. D asked, draining his can of Diet Coke and snapping his fingers. The aluminium tin vanished with a quiet _pop_. Harry realised that he should probably look surprised at the show of magic, and tried to blink rapidly at the tin as though he couldn’t figure out what had happened.

Mr. D stared.

“You got conjunctivitis, boy?” he said, and Harry fought back the wince. Well, that failed.

“No, sir,” he said.

“Do you even know what conjunctivitis is, Mr. D?” Chiron asked, and Mr. D exhaled noisily.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t really bother myself with knowing human ailments. I won’t repeat myself, boy.”

Harry realised with a start that it was him being addressed again, before recalling the earlier question.

“Oh,” he said. “My name.” And then he remembered that he had not yet established an alias, and so his mind began whirling at a hundred miles a second. “It’s… it’s Harry. Evans.”

His heart almost broke when he uttered the surname, but covered his lapse with clearing his throat.

“Alright, Arnold Evans,” Mr. D said - apparently he had heard of Harry’s ‘original’ name earlier on and didn’t care for being corrected. “I shan’t pretend that I’m pleased to have you here. And more so because of your resemblance to Peter Johnson. But let me say this-” he glared at Harry. “If your personality is anything as similar to Peter Johnson’s as your faces are, then I warn you - do not bring more trouble to my doorstep.”

There was an almost purple fire in his eyes, and Harry decided that despite his Dudley-appearance, he was not a force to be reckoned with.

“I won’t intentionally,” Harry said coolly, meeting the camp director’s gaze, “but I can’t help it if I have an affinity for trouble.”

Mr. D was unimpressed.

“That’s what all you brats say,” he said, and then flicked a index pudgy finger outward. “Oh, whatever. If you’re undetermined, Arnold Evans, then go band together with the Hermes cabin. Now leave me to my brooding.” 

“I’ll see you at dinner, Mr. D,” Chiron said, half dragging Harry away as he puffed up indignantly. Either way, as soon as they were around the corner, neither of them mentioned the exchange again. 

“Now, where to start with the tour?” Chiron said as they left the Big House, which was stationed near the border of Camp Half-Blood. “At the moment, all of the campers will be taking part in their 4pm activity, so we should probably find a cabin group any place that we go.”

“Uh, great,” Harry said, and scratched an eyebrow awkwardly. “So… where to?”

“Well,” Chiron said thoughtfully, and then began down a scenic route. “It might be good to go to the arena, introduce you to some sword-fighting… I believe that the Ares, Apollo and Poseidon cabins are there right now.”

“Oh, I don’t sword fight,” Harry put in hastily, hurrying to catch up with the centaur. “I don’t need to, either. I’ve got my wand, and my wand is all I…” he put a hand to his pocket to grab for his wand, but came up empty. “…need…”

“Ah, yes, about that,” said Chiron gravely. “Sadly, I can’t allow you to wander the premises of this camp with that wand. It is far too dangerous for you, and those around you. Especially if somebody were to figure out what you were, and they found physical evidence on you…” he settled into a brooding stare into the clear blue sky, and Harry cleared his throat.

“Well, surely nobody could figure it out,” he offered meekly. “I mean, how’s that even possible? No one knows anything about me at this point.” Chiron turned his gaze back on Harry, giving Harry the impression that Chiron thought that he was an imbecile.

“You underestimate Athena’s children,” he said, and then added in a lower mutter, “Especially one in particular.”

“Yeah, sure, they’re smart,” Harry said hotly, “but they’re not psychic or anything.”

“Not psychic, no,” said Chiron, “but they have an astonishing talent of puzzling out answers to the most cryptic and arcane subjects. And with even the slightest clue, they’re as resolute as hellhounds tracking their next victim.”

Harry did not enjoy that analogy, not in the slightest bit.

“Good thing none of them have ‘even the slightest clue’, then,” he said, to which Chiron chuckled soundlessly.

“Oh, but one does already,” he said. “You remember how you began to tell me about your school, before I cut you off? There were two other present in the room at the time, you may recall.”

Harry cast his mind back, back before either of them had spoken their story aloud, and recollected the two campers who had been in the room, and then, in a small panic, remembered that one of them was one of Athena’s.

“That girl,” he said. “Annabeth. You think that she-?”

“I have a hunch,” Chiron said. “Be on guard around her, either way. Her in particular.”

“I-” Harry began, then stopped. “Wait. What would be so disastrous about them finding out about my… heritage? Sure, I’m not meant to exist, but…”

“Now is not the time,” Chiron said, glancing around their surroundings in a manner that was almost wary.

Great, Harry thought. Chiron was one of those people who liked to be ambiguous in a way that was almost annoying. He wouldn’t reveal the reason until the last second, Harry supposed, fighting a wave of mild irritation.

Almost as though Chiron could hear his thoughts, he said in a low voice as way of explanation, “The trees have ears.”

Harry whipped his head around to stare at the trees that were scattered across their pathway. He half expected to see a set of eardrums in the bark, but saw nothing of the sort.

“Tree nymphs,” Chiron offered quietly. “They may seem to be on… _our_ side, but in reality, they’re on the side of the gods.”

Meaning that if they heard what Harry was, they would report back to the gods. Just brilliant. Harry loved trees that could walk and talk.

“Not all of the trees are nymphs in disguise,” Chiron said as they ambled onward. “Some of them are truly what they appear to be.”

“Trees,” Harry said flatly.

“Yes,” said Chiron. “Trees.”

“I’m going to fit in _excellently_ here,” Harry remarked.

* * *

Percy neatly hooked Riptide beneath the hilt of Clarisse’s sword, flipping the entire weapon from her hands and onto the ground, kicking it behind him.

Clarisse snarled, hands now devoid of her death instrument, and Percy held one hand up in surrender, using the other to wipe sweat off of his forehead.

“Match over,” he panted - Clarisse always unfailingly got him overly winded, even when she didn’t win. “Give up, Clarisse. I could skewer you right now.”

She glared at him in silence for a moment, as though considering risking it and lunging at him in an attempt to choke him, but apparently decided better.

“Fine,” she said - though there was no deficiency of venom in her voice. “Fine, Jackson. You’re absolutely dead meat next time, though, asshole.” She started to turn around.

“Look forward to it,” Percy said, unsticking his shirt from his chest and flapping it slightly to call down, when he heard a somewhat familiar English-accented voice say disbelievingly from behind him, “ _That’s_ sword-fighting?”

Clarisse turned full circle.

“Who,” she said, “is _that_?” Percy didn’t miss her dark eyes flicking between the source of the voice and himself, though.

Percy glanced over his shoulder to see Chiron standing there, Harry by his side, now wearing an orange Camp Half-Blood t-shirt.

He looked a lot better now, probably thanks to nectar, if he was out of bed. His skin had gained colour again, his rumpled black hair had a healthy sheen, and behind those strange, round glasses, the starkly intense green eyes were bright with something akin to amusement.

Now that he was standing, Percy could see that he had some height - not as tall as himself, though - and was leanly muscular. Percy wondered what sport he was into - no one with that muscle tone could _not_ do anything. He was cute, Percy admitted to himself grudgingly. Not that he was into guys. 

“Perfect timing, Percy,” Chiron said. “I don’t suppose that you could take Harry off of my hands right now?”

Judging from Harry whipping his head around to glare at Chiron, Percy knew that they had not spoken of this.

“Sure,” he said, capping Riptide so that it transformed pack into a ballpoint pen. “I can play hookey. It’s not like I have other cabin members to set an example for.” He laughed half-heartedly, before gesturing for Harry to come over.

Percy did not miss the look that passed between them as Chiron clapped Harry on the shoulder, before setting off at a canter.

And so Percy and Harry came face-to-face for the first time. Percy stared at him in silence for several seconds, still trying to figure out what the mystery that shrouded him was. Because up close, that mystery almost seemed tangible. He could almost taste it. A heavy cloak that you might not sense from far way, but up close, it was there in those green eyes - a kind of sadness.

What _was_ it?

“Uh, hello?” Harry asked, sweeping a hand in front of Percy’s face. “You still there?”

Startled, Percy realised that he had been staring, and so chuckled awkwardly. 

“Sorry,” he said. “Got caught up in my thoughts. So, we haven’t been formally introduced yet, have we?” He held out a hand. “I’m Percy Jackson. Son of Poseidon.”

“You’ve said that already,” Harry said, a smile at the corner of his mouth as he accepted the handshake.

“Of course he has,” Clarisse said. Percy had forgotten that she was still watching. “Jackson loves himself too much.”

“I do not,” Percy said defensively, unable to fight the blush.

“So who are you, rookie?” Clarisse asked, shoving Percy aside and ignoring him entirely. “You Jackson’s brother or something?”

“No,” Harry said immediately, though upon apparent further consideration, added, “At least, I don’t think so.”

“Why’re you here?” Clarisse asked. Her tone was less unfriendly it had been when she had first addressed Percy, all those years ago. “Britain doesn’t have their own safe-place for half-bloods?”

“I couldn’t say,” Harry said. “I honestly don’t know how I ended up here.”

Truth. Percy could read the raw and open tone. Weird.

“Lucky for you,” Clarisse said, “Camp Half-Blood is full of tough badasses who can save _your_ ass if you get your panties in a twist.”

“What?” Harry looked sincerely bewildered. Not used to American speech.

“Ignore her,” Percy called to Harry over the shoulder belonging to Clarissa that he was stuck behind, as though it were a brick wall. “She’s one of Ares’. An untrustworthy and conniving-” 

“Shove that up your ass, Jackson,” Clarisse said, scowling over her shoulder at Percy. Percy returned a vulgar gesture, to which she turned her nose up to, and Harry raised his eyebrows. “I’m making a powerful ally here, and you’re not going to get in my way.”

“Powerful ally?” Harry asked.

“You reek of it,” Clarisse said, laughing in a tone that was almost wicked. “Trust me. I have a nose for power. I’m just good at picking out who I want.” She glared at Percy again. “Jackson is not one of them.”

“Thank the gods,” Percy interjected. “Wouldn’t want anything to do with your little gang of thugs.”

“Clarisse La Rue,” she said, and for perhaps the first time, Percy witnessed her offering a handshake. “Daughter of Ares.”

Harry looked at the proffered hand. Considered it. Looked up at Percy. All in a mere heartbeat. Percy shrugged in return.

And so Harry clapped his hand into Clarisse’s, both sets of knuckles incredibly white from an apparently extremely firm grip.

“Harry,” he said. “Harry Evans.”

Lie, said Percy’s lie radar. Lie, lie, lie.

“I’ll see you around, Evans,” Clarisse said, relinquishing her grip, and with a nod that was almost angry, she stormed out of the arena.

Harry looked after her, eyebrows drawn downwards, before glancing in Percy’s direction.

“I hope I made the right decision,” he said.

“You’ll find out one day,” Percy said.

“Bollocks,” Harry declared. “What’s with you people and your annoyingly cryptic answers to everything?”

“I dunno,” Percy said, chuckling. “I’m still trying to figure that one out. C’mon, I’ll show you around the place.”

“Don’t you have to stick with your, uh, activity schedule?” Harry asked.

“Like I said before,” Percy said, “I’m a one-man band. I roam _where_ I wanna roam, _when_ I wanna roam there.” 

“I relate to that,” Harry said, grinning now, and followed Percy as he led them out of the arena.

“Well hey, Annabeth did the same for me six years ago, so I should probably keep up the tradition,” Percy said, in concern to the tour-guiding, and as he said it, he glanced over in Harry’s direction, and was almost unnerved to see a shadow of darkness cross over the new guy’s face at the mention of Annabeth’s name, but half a second later, it was gone. Percy may has well have managed to whole thing.

“You and Annabeth close?” Harry asked conversationally as they walked, and Percy smiled, the way that he did whenever Annabeth’s name was mentioned.

“I guess so,” he said. “We’ve been going out for a little while now.”

“Mhmm.” The sound was almost meditative, as though Harry was lost in thought. Percy shot him a sideways glance.

“You got a girlfriend?” he asked, and Harry’s mouth quirked slightly.

“Yeah,” he said. “Well, no. I had to break things off with her last year.”

“Ah.” Percy grimaced. “Sorry.”

“What’re you apologising for?” Harry smiled stiffly. “I’ve become accustomed to having bad luck in everything.”

“That we have in common,” Percy said, recalling a conversation he had once had with Hermes. A conversation were Percy had admitted to his favourite Greek hero being Hercules - not for his strength, but for his bad luck which, embarrassingly, made Percy feel better about himself.

A short silence fell over the pair - and Percy was astonished to find that it was not awkward, rather just… companionable, and quite simply _right_ , in the strangest way. As though the two of them had always meant to walk together down this path, side by side, as though the entire history of the world had led up to this moment.

Finally, unable to contain the question any more, Percy said, “So you took your mom’s name?”

“What?” He looked confused, right before realisation settled across his features. “Oh. Um, yeah. I guess I did. They died when I was one, you know, so…”

“Well, you never know,” Percy said. “One of your parents has to have been a god - so that one isn’t really dead - and…”

“And?” Harry prompted. Percy met his gaze.

“And once, my mom was killed by a monster,” he said, “but I got her back. I _got her back_ , despite all odds. I don’t know the circumstances to your parent’s death, I don’t expect you to tell me, but there is _always_ a chance that you will see them again. If only for a heartbeat.”

Percy continued to walk, but soon found himself to be walking alone. He paused, and looked over his shoulder.

Harry stood further behind, spine rigidly straight, and there was an almost glassy set to his eyes as he stared straight ahead, his expression frozen.

“They…” he said haltingly. “She… was killed by a monster, too. But I’m not going to get that chance. I’m not even going to get a heartbeat.” 

Percy looked at the ground, unsure of what to say in response to it.

Again, quiet. No noise except for the soothing slap of the water in the creek lapping against the bank, further behind them.

Then, just like that, Harry snapped out of it. He looked over at Percy and wore a smile that was difficult to tell was even slightly strained.

“Just know,” Percy said softly, “Let me tell you this before we get any further. You’re _not_ trapped in this camp. It’s the safest place for our kind, but you’re not trapped. Once you realise that, everything’ll kind of brighten up.”

“Well,” Harry said. “That was a random comment.”

Percy persisted anyhow.

“You know, if you ever need to speak with anyone,” and Percy was certain that Harry was in dire need to speak with someone from his old life, “there’s always I-M’ing that you can use.”

“I-M’ing?” The smile had faded off of Harry’s face, as though he realised that it was no use to pretend that nothing was wrong. “How does that work?”

“Yeah, Iris-messaging. You toss a drachma into a rainbow,” Percy said. “You address Iris, the Goddess of Rainbows, then say who it is that you want to speak with, and where you can find them.”

Harry stared at Percy, and it was impossible to read his expression, before he said, “When is the soonest that I can do that?”

“As soon as we get our hands on a rainbow,” Percy said. “Or a spray bottle. But first, I think I owe it to them - I’ve got to introduce you to Jason and Nico. I think that Nico’s a bit taken by you, and Jason… well, he’s alright, really.”

“Um, _who_ are they?” Harry asked, to which Percy broke into a broad grin.

“I’m really flattered that you think that me and Annabeth were the only ones involved in finding you,” he said, “but Jason and Nico are the two who complete the circle. And in all truthfulness,” Percy added, believing that he really did owe it to the Son of Hades, “Nico was the one who got you back to camp in time. Without him, you’d probably have bled out beneath that tree. He is the one who actually saved your life.” 

* * *

 

**Soooooo. Is it only me who feels like that chapter was a little shorter than the others?? Anyways, next chapter, Harry meets a bunch of the PJO gang, and also manages to contact the wizarding world. And let me tell you, he’s got a little surprise waiting for him. BIG surprise, actually. Changes the course of this entire fic!! I am so excited for this. Bwahahaha.**

 

**~Black Cat Widow~**


	5. Chapter 5

**Onward we plough! (Oooh, Harico foreshadowing.) It won’t be insta-love, I promise you, because I hate insta-love as much as any of you. So, um, you’re basically about to come face-to-face with what leads the entire plot - just prep yourself.**

* * *

 

_“Nico was the one who got you back to camp in time. Without him, you’d probably have bled out beneath that tree. He is the one who actually saved your life.”_

* * *

“So should I fall to my knees and worship him?” Harry said, and Percy could see how grudgingly annoyed Harry was at having his life hanging by a thread at some point - a thread which was not dangling from his own hands, but rather Nico’s. Percy understood the feeling. As though your own body had betrayed you by making you depend on someone else in such a dire matter - death.

“No one’s going to judge you,” Percy told Harry, “just because you weren’t the one controlling whether you’d die or not. Especially where it concerns Nico Di Angelo.” Son of the God of the Underworld, after all. How ironic. “Anyway, we’ve all been close to death at some point.”

“More than I can say about DA,” Harry muttered to himself, but Percy caught it anyway.

“DA?” He asked, and Harry blinked.

“Nothing,” he said, scraping past the subject. “What do you mean by ‘especially where it concerns Nico Di… Di Whatever’?”

“Nico Di Angelo,” Percy offered up promptly, and laughed to himself bitterly. “Yeah. Most of us have some pretty complicated backgrounds regarding _him_. I know that I do for sure.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, curious, and a flood of memories crashed into him as Percy recalled the time that Nico had told him that he hated him for not saving his sister, and before being consumed by the darkness, and then how often he had rejected Nico, sent him away, made him hate him. It was something which Percy would always regret. The lack of trust in their bond. Something which could never be fully healed, especially after Nico had confessed to his feelings for Percy which Percy had never reciprocated.

“I mean a lot, Harry,” Percy said, and looked at him boldly. “But it wouldn’t be right if I told you. It might sway the balance of what light you hold him in. This is a decision that you have to make for yourself. It’s important for Nico, I think, to meet somebody who knows nothing about his past.”

“You’re making me nervous,” Harry mocked.

“Just leave your glasses on, no matter what,” Percy said. “I don’t want people confusing us. It could get awkward if they do.”

“Brilliant,” Harry said coldly. “But just to get this out there, we look _nothing_ alike.”

“I know!” Percy exclaimed. “That’s what I keep on saying!”

“Are we even the same age?”

“Well, I just turned eighteen…”

“Seventeen,” said Harry. “See, we don’t even have age alike.”

Not wanting to dwell of the subject, they abruptly changed topics.

“Where’re we headed?” asked Harry. 

“Who knows?” Percy said. “It may still be during the final scheduled period of the day, but Jason and Nico are the two others who’re like me. One-man bands, as I put it before.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “So they’re… kids of the Big Three as well?”

“Chiron filled you in, huh?” Percy said, and exhaled.

“He filled me in pretty well,” Harry said. “A lot of detail of what you guys have… been through. He avoided using the names of campers, though. Doesn’t want me to already have impressions of them from the stories, I guess, before I meet them. Kind of like what you’re doing with-”

“With Nico, yeah,” Percy said, and grimaced. “Chiron and I are just birds of a feather, aren’t we?”

Harry eyed Percy.

“You and Chiron,” he said. “Are you… well, are you close?”

“I guess,” Percy said, shrugging, and stuffed his hands into his pockets as he gazed into the distance. “I mean, he’s more a mentor than anything, but I could depend on him when I was twelve, thirteen, fourteen… that awkward stage, you know? He doesn’t tell me much about himself, and maybe I don’t really know him, but I just _feel_ like I do, somewhere deep inside, if you get that?”

He shot a sideways look over to Harry, who was also staring into the faraway sky, a soft smile curving his mouth - a soft, vulnerable, _real_ smile. His mouth quivered slightly, as though it was unused to wearing a proper smile, as though it hadn’t for a long time, or perhaps was just biting back tears.

“I get that,” he said quietly. “You’ll never know how much I get that.”

It was in that moment that Percy almost understood how lonely this boy was. Maybe he’d never get to know Harry’s story, maybe he’d disappear the very next day, but Percy understood.

_He understood._

He turned around and gripped Harry’s shoulder with a hand. It was so strange, but despite their knowing each other for barely any time, Percy felt a bond with this guy - Arnold, Harry, Evans, whatever his true name was, there was no denying that there was some kind of string that tethered the two together. And Percy wasn’t talking brotherly-bonds. His brother was Tyson. He _knew_ what it was like to have a brother. But this was different. Deeper, stronger, older.

“I know right now,” he said, and Harry glanced up, met his eye.

“Don’t go ahead and try to snog me,” was all he said, to which Percy widened his eyes, relinquished his grip, stepped back… and unleashed a bellowing laugh.

“ _That_ ,” he said, “is all you have to say to me?” He snorted. “You Brits have a wicked sense of humour. And a _really_ weird dictionary.”

“Hey!” a voice boomed from further away. “There you are!”

Percy glanced in the direction of the voice, and saw that it was Jason approaching, Nico trailing after him reluctantly. And as per usual, Percy was struck by how opposite the two looked, side by side, and what an unlikely friendship they had made - if it even _was_ friendship.

First there was Jason, looking annoyingly muscular and rugged, his hair blonde and bright in the low-hanging afternoon sun, radiating an aura of high spirits. Despite his constant, everyday life in Camp Half-Blood, he refused to wear the standard CHB shirt, and continued to wear that ridiculously purple Camp Jupiter one which read SPQR. And then Nico. Slightly shorter, with a slim, lanky build, pitch-black hair and an almost tangible, heavy cloud of darkness around him. The other camper to refuse the conventional clothing standards. Percy didn’t think that he had ever seen him wear anything other than skinny black jeans, a black shirt, an aviator jacket and grungy, dark boots. And there - the silverly glint of his signature skull ring on his finger.

“How did you find us?” Percy said, folding his arms across his chest and facing them.

“Ran into Annabeth earlier on,” Jason said, shoving his glasses back up his nose and peering at Percy. “Which obviously meant that you were out-and-about again. I dragged Nico along to come find you. Was a pretty lucky guess that I decided to come check the arena first.”

“Well,” Percy said, “we were looking for you, too.” He could sense Harry lurking around behind him, unsure of where to go, so he reached over and grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him over to stand next to him, slightly amused. “Here’s our corpse,” he said.

“Pretty healthy looking for a corpse, now,” Jason said, looking Harry up and down.

Percy gave Harry a sideways glance to see what he made of the blonde, and was highly entertained to see the narrowed eyes.

“Bloody amusing,” said Harry.

“Out comes the sass,” Percy mouthed to Jason, who laughed.

“I’m Jason,” he said, stepping forwards to thump Harry on the shoulder. “Jason Grace. You can call me Hero if you want, though, because I saved you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Grace,” Percy said.

“You got a name, newbie?” Jason asked, ignoring Percy’s comment, and Harry practically swelled up indignantly.

“Is ‘newbie’ seriously the best you can come up with?” he said, before lapsing into thoughtful silence. “And it’s Harry. My name. Harry Evans.”

* * *

The blonde guy was a strange combination of cool and irritating, Harry found. He wasn’t sure which one won out, but somehow, whenever the tall, muscular blonde opened his mouth, Harry felt amused.

This had to have been the Jason that Percy had been speaking about Harry meeting.

Silently analysing the newcomers with a shrewd eye for detail, Harry first scanned Jason from head to toe. Taller than Percy, who was similar in height to Harry, and pretty ripped as well. Short, soft gold hair, a browned complexion and pale-coloured eyes. Glasses that still allowed him to maintain his super rugged, athletic appeal and a scar on his upper lip. Harry felt that he had a pretty good idea of what to expect from this guy. No hidden nooks or crannies that would conceal anything that could probably sneak up on him and bite him on the butt.

But the other one.

Well, _he_ was a whole different story.

There was something dark about him, something that Harry didn’t trust, something that made him want to keep on checking over his shoulder to make sure that nobody was following him. His face hinted that he was slightly younger than Harry, but even despite the height difference between them, Harry almost felt intimidated. The boy was elegant and slim, with pale skin that contrasted against the dark clothing, dark hair, dark eyes and dark shadows. A formidable companion to anybody.

But what disturbed Harry more than anything was that the boy seemed to be staring straight at him.

He resisted the urge to tug on Percy’s sleeve like a little boy requesting his mother’s attention, and instead chose to stare directly back at the boy while Percy and Jason exchanged ‘pleasantries’ - nothing all too pleasant about them, though.

 _What’re you looking at_? Harry snapped silently, and the boy merely blinked slowly, rather like a cat lazily awakening from a totally unnecessary nap - a nap to prove that it _could_ nap if it wanted to - before turning his head away slowly to focus back in on Percy and Jason’s conversation.

 _What_ , Harry thought.

Percy and Jason seemed pretty preoccupied in conversation suddenly, so the boy looked back at Harry, and opened his mouth.

Judging from his appearance, Harry would have expected him to say something super slick or mysterious, brooding or dark, but instead he awkwardly blurted out, “Hiimnico.”

“What,” Harry said, this time aloud. The boy unleashed a self-conscious laugh, his eyes flicking between Harry and Percy momentarily.

“I mean, I’m Nico,” he repeated. 

“ _You’re_ Nico?” Harry had been expecting someone… well, different, he supposed. This boy was the one who had saved him, and who had an apparently complicated history with Percy? Maybe if he hadn’t opened his mouth, Harry would have believed it, but Nico’s words just didn’t add up to his appearance.

“Yeah.” Nico looked vaguely offended. Harry couldn’t help himself from persisting.

“Di Angelo?” he pressed. “Nico Di Angelo?” From the corner of his eye, he could see Percy suppressing a grin, and Jason doing the same, without the suppressing part. He immediately knew that they had struck up their pointless conversation about seaweed in order to give this Nico guy an opening, and immediately felt both amused and annoyed.

Nico was flushing by this stage, and Harry quickly felt horrible.

“Yeah,” he said. “Nico Di Angelo.” He then glared, regaining some dignity. “Got a problem with that?”

“No.” Harry put his hands up in surrender, refusing to disclose his surprise at the identity of his apparent saviour. “I just… wanted to say the name again. It’s, um, it’s a cool name.”

 _Real smooth,_ a voice inside his head laughed, and he grimaced.

“So you brought me back here?” he asked, and Nico lifted the hand with the skull ring on it to rub the nape of his neck, looking uncomfortable. Harry’s eyes followed the ring - he couldn’t help it. It was an interesting choice of accessory.

“I guess so,” was all Nico managed to utter, and his blush went darker. Harry almost rolled his eyes.

“You’re a Son of Hades?” he went on, in an attempt to carry out a civil and polite conversation.

“ _The_ Son of Hades,” Nico said, and bit his lip, as though regretting his elaboration. “I’m the only one.”

“That’s right,” said Harry, now thoughtful, and cupped his chin as he stared at Nico pensively. “Chiron might have mentioned that. Whole issue with the Big Three, right? It mucked up your life yet?”

“You have got no idea what my life has been like,” Nico said, and exhaled heavily, blowing hair up off of his forehead. Harry instinctively narrowed his eyes.

 _And you have got no idea what_ my _life has been like_.

“He _shook_ Clarisse La Rue’s hand?” Jason exclaimed, and Harry shot a sideways glance over to the Son of Zeus. Jupiter. Whatever. He was looking at him as if Harry was a complete nut, and repeated, “You _shook_ her hand?”

“I did,” Harry drawled, and pulled his shoulders into a shrug. “What’s the big deal, Grace?”

“Oh, I like him so much,” Percy hissed in a mock stage whisper to Jason, nudging Harry. They both ignored him.

“You don’t screw around with Ares’ kids,” Jason warned, completely serious. “You’re new here. You don’t know them.”

“Then explain to me,” Harry said coldly, and Jason’s lips tightened. It wasn’t as if Harry was Clarisse’s biggest fan, but an explanation was warranted if he was meant to reject somebody immediately, without any question.

“You don’t understand,” was all that Jason offered tautly, and Harry was unable to hold back the scoff in his throat.

“Of course I don’t understand,” he snapped. “That’s why I asked.”

“Um, guys,” Nico began, but Jason shushed him abruptly.

“This isn’t a joke,” he said. “Ares and his kids are scheming and dangerous. Jackson?”

“They wouldn’t be my first choice of friends,” Percy admitted, and Harry took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

“I am not their friend,” he said slowly, emphasising each word as though speaking to imbeciles. “But I have a lot of experience with enemies, and I have enough of them at this point in time. Many of them I earned six years ago, just by rejecting one handshake. Right now, I would really rather not add to that list.”

Jason opened his mouth, but Harry cut him off. He didn’t want to know what he was going to say.

“At the moment,” he said, “I do not have time to be discussing my way of thinking with people who don’t even know me. I need to Iris Message some people who _do_ know me, and can help me to figure out this predicament that I’m landed in. So please-” he sounded desperate, even to his own ears “-don’t push me.”

A stretch of silence spanned between the four, and then finally Jason said, “You’re right. I don’t even know you, and I’m already telling you what’s best for you. Who am I to judge people for you? Really dick move on my part. Sorry.” 

Harry merely gave a single, silent nod, and Percy blew his cheeks out into two small balloons, before releasing the air.

“Okay, sick,” he said. “Now that that’s settled, I’d better keep my promise to Harry and make him a rainbow.”

“That sounds awfully romantic,” Jason said, causing Nico to splutter, and Percy rolled his eyes.

“I’ve got a girlfriend,” he said. “I know you’re interested in me, but sorry.” 

Harry might have smiled, but he had grown impatient to try to make contact with Ron and Hermione. He looked at Percy expectantly, who read his expression and said to Jason and Nico, “I’d better go and reunite Harry with whoever he wants to be reunited with.”

* * *

Harry stared at the basin of grey rock, a stream of water spouting from the carved head of a fish. Percy stood by his side, arms folded and looking mighty pleased with himself.

“This _thing_ ,” Harry said, “is going to allow me to contact my, um, friends?”He still was unsure of how much he was meant to reveal to the demigods, even despite all of Chiron’s pep talking. 

“Hey,” Percy said, frowning, the satisfied smile dropping from his face. “It’s a saltwater spring. It was a gift from my dad.”

“What I mean is,” Harry said hastily, “it’s great. Brilliant. And it’s… it’s making your cabin smell like the ocean.” He paused to furrow his brows. “Is it meant to do that?”

“Yeah,” Percy said, closing his eyes to inhale deeply, and when they snapped open, the sea-green colour of his irises were almost luminescent. “When I die, this is what my heaven is going to smell like.”

Harry nodded slowly, considering.

“I mean, it’s not my favourite smell,” he said, “but sure, I guess I could live with it.”

“Then you’re definitely not my brother,” Percy said decisively. “No way in Tartarus could a child of the Sea God not like the smell of the sea.”

“Glad we got that out there,” Harry said wryly, before sucking a deep breath in. “So how does this work?”

Percy walked over to his cabin window and pushed the curtains open so that sunlight leaked into the room, alighting on the salty mist and threading a pale rainbow through it.

“First acknowledge Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow,” he told Harry, fishing through his pocket and re-emerging with a couple of gold coins that wasn’t any coin that Harry was familiar with, and was certainly not a Galleon. “Ask her to accept your offering, and then toss one of these - a drachma - into the rainbow in the mist. It should vanish, then say aloud the name of the person who you want to see, and also their location.”

Location. Location could be tricky, Harry thought, so decided inwardly to first start off with Grimmauld Place.

“Alright,” he said, accepting the gold coins. “Got it. Thanks, mate. It means a lot to me.”

“It’s fine,” Percy said. “I get the feeling that we’ll be spending a lot of time together in the near future, so I hope that we can be friends.”

“You already sort of are,” Harry said, smiling slightly, and Percy grinned completely un-humbly.

“Um, I’ll leave you to it then,” he said. “There’s a few coins, if you want to contact a few people. I’ll just be out there, somewhere,” he said, jabbing his thumb in the direction behind his shoulder, slowly backing out of the cabin.

“I shouldn’t be too long,” Harry said.

“The vision will fade by itself,” Percy said, turning one-eighty degrees to walk out of the room, but ended up turning the full three-sixty to face Harry again. “I think you left a bit of an impression on Jason and Nico, by the way,” he added. “It’s not every day you meet a British demigod.”

“Uh, thanks,” Harry said, his eyebrows shooting up, and Percy blushed, scratching the back of his neck.

“Okay,” he said. “That sounded better in my head. I’ll… I’ll just leave now.”

He all but fled the room.

Harry laughed quietly to himself.

“I could get to like these people,” he said to himself, before turning to face the subtle rainbow in the mist, and then felt a sliver of sadness in his heart. If things went to plan, though, he wouldn’t get that chance to, because he would be gone by nightfall. Something child to hope and dread pounded in his heart. He would speak to Hermione and Ron, figure this whole mess out, and then hopefully leave immediately, he told himself, plotting it all out. He didn’t have time to holiday in this place, even though it was absolutely incredible that he had managed to find another secret hideaway in the world for people who were different. He wondered how many others there were, because if there were now wizards _and_ demigods, who knew what else actually existed?

He shook his head. It wasn’t Harry’s Time To Be Away With The Fairies. It was Time To Be Rational.

Clearing his throat, Harry said aloud, “Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow, please accept my offering.”

He took one coin - drachma, he reminded himself - and tossed it into the rainbow. It shimmered momentarily in the air, then vanished. His breath paused in his breath - that was exciting.

“I wish to speak with Hermione Granger,” he said, and saying the name aloud suddenly made everything real again in his heart, “at number 12 Grimmauld Place, London.”

Harry waited with baited breath, for something, _anything_ to happen. Perhaps some portal, or some corporeal, patronus-like image of her to appear, but nothing. Just silence. Harry frowned. He wanted to call Percy back in, to ask whether something was wrong with this Iris Messaging method, but then a thought occurred to him. Maybe Hermione was out, or something. It seemed unlikely, but it was the only explanation. He tried again.

“I’d like to speak to Ronald Weasley,” he said, “at number 12 Grimmauld Place, London.”

Again, there was nothing. Harry chewed on his tongue. Maybe they were both out then, so that was inconvenient. Who was somebody else who was completely reliable, who he knew would always be there? And then a magnificent thought occurred to him. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea, because the place was supposedly overrun with death-eaters now, but it was worth a try.

“Minerva McGonagall,” he said, louder this time, “at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

Something akin to adrenaline buzzed in his veins as an image in the mist began to swirl into shape, and there she was, the fierce Head of Gryffindor House, sitting at her desk with a greyed face. She looked older, somehow, and far more tired than last time Harry had seen her. Not unexpected, though, with everything going on around.

“Professor!” he said loudly, wondering how this would work, and her head jerked up as she lunged for her wand, which was far more edgy of her than Harry remembered, and then her eyes found him and a wobbly gasp escaped from her mouth. She dropped her wand and she stood, seeming incredibly frail as she did so.

“Harry Potter?” she whispered, and her eyes began to well up with tears, to Harry’s astonishment. “Is that really you, Potter?”

Harry sincerely hoped that Percy was not eavesdropping, as it could be difficult to come up with an excuse as to why he had been pretending that his surname was Evans. He could feign concussion, of course, Harry supposed. 

“Yes, it’s me,” he said grimly. “Sorry, this is a bit awkward, with me contacting you while you’re _there_ , but I couldn’t reach anyone else because I wasn’t sure where they might be.”

“What _happened_ to you?” McGonagall asked, still speaking in that hushed tone as if he were on his deathbed. Harry frowned now.

“Professor Dumbledore asked me not to tell anybody,” he said. “I’ve already told you that.”

“Yes, once,” McGonagall said, pressing her fingers against her mouth. “A long time ago. We all assumed…”

“It was less than a year ago, Professor,” Harry said, now concerned. “Are you feeling alright? Well, no one would be feeling alright now, but are you feeling… healthy? Have you had enough sleep?”

“ _Less than a year ago_?” She looked absolutely horrified. “Where are you, Potter? Who are you with?”

“Long story short,” Harry said. “I got separated from Ron and Hermione - who’re with me, by the way, on this… quest… that Dumbledore set for us that I can’t tell you about, sorry - and I splinched some place in America, at this place that hides demigods - they’re real, you know, all the Greek myths and gods and such - and it turns out I must somehow _be_ one of them, because I ate this ‘god food’ to heal myself, and apparently if I wasn’t a demigod, it would have killed me painfully or something. I’ve been having a bit of a holiday at this place, besides that fact that I nearly bled to death, but I think it’s about time that I got back to work, with Voldemort trying to take over the world right now…” he paused when McGonagall flinched at the name. That was new. “Why? What’s been happening over there?” Oh Merlin, someone had died, hadn’t they? Someone had died, and here Harry was, rambling like a complete idiot…

“We all thought you were dead,” she said, and Harry could breathe again. So _he_ was the one who had died, except he hadn’t, so it was alright.

“Not dead,” he said weakly, patting himself down. “At least I don’t think so. I’ve been out for a few days, so this was the earliest I could contact you…”

“Harry,” McGonagall said, and it was the first time she had called him ‘Harry’ since Dumbledore had died. His absolute attention was earned now. “It hasn’t been a few days. It has been twelve years.”

Harry opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

“But they told me-” he began, but was cut off.

“Twelve years, Harry,” she pressed, her tone fierce. “I don’t know what has happened to you, if _anything_ has changed for you, but let me tell you this - _everything_ has changed for us. The Wizarding World has changed. It’s savage, it’s dangerous, it’s… Please, promise me something, Harry - don’t come back here. Don’t ever come back here.”

_Twelve years. Twelve years. Twelve. Years._

The world spun in front of his eyes, like a top, and he felt that he might fall over from the shock.

“I have to,” he said, though it wasn’t him speaking. He had exited his body a long time ago, or perhaps it had merely been seconds. “I have to go back and… and finish this off.”

“It’s already finished,” McGonagall breathed. “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named won twelve years ago.”

_He had won. He had won. He had won he had won he had won he had won he had won he had won he had won_

“So,” Harry said jerkily. “Ron and Hermione didn’t manage to…” _Find all the horcruxes. End Voldemort. We failed._

“Harry,” McGonagall said, and her voice was the softest that Harry had ever heard it. Like she was trying to soothe a frightened animal without sending it into a frenzy. “Did you try to contact Hermione?”

“Yes,” Harry said, because that was a question he could answer intelligibly. Hermione would always be real, even if it was over a decade later… “She was the first one I tried to contact. She’s always been the one I could rely on, so I tried… I never thought she wouldn’t answer, because she’s always been there for me, so I tried but she wasn’t there so.” He was babbling. He cut off as soon as he could.

McGonagall took a deep breath, closing her eyes as though she was about to say something that she sorely regretted. Harry could handle it. Nothing could send him into more of a shock than learning that he was twelve years into the future, and that his mortal enemy had won a battle that Harry had been born to fight. Nothing could. Nothing…

“Ten years ago,” the old and weary professor said, “Hermione Granger was killed.”

This could.

Harry slammed to his knees.

* * *

 

**Um. Guys. I think that I just killed Hermione.**

 

**~Black Cat Widow~**


	6. Chapter 6

**Morning, lovely Harry Potter and Percy Jackson fandoms. Next, we have a date with destiny! Or rather, restiny. Ronstiny. Ron. We have a date with Ron. Just Ron. *sly wink* Um, that didn’t work, did it? (Never mind.)**

**Once again, apologies for typos. I never proof-read my own work.**

* * *

 

_“Ten years ago,” the old and weary professor said, “Hermione Granger was killed.”_

_This could._

_Harry slammed to his knees._

* * *

 

“Hermione’s dead,” Harry repeated, staring at his fingers which now formed claws around his knees. “Hermione. Dead.”

She couldn’t be. Just a few days ago, she had been there, screaming at him to hurry up, Ron already holding one hand and the other outstretched to him. She had been the sister, the confidante, the guide, the teacher. But more importantly, she had been one of his two best friends.

But now - gone. Like a teardrop, falling into the ocean, one more fleeting soul among the many.

McGonagall was entirely silent, her sharp, bird-like eyes watching him, monitoring him. The tears would come later, Harry knew. They would come, and they would fall, thick and fast, until all reality became a blur, just as the dreamlike revelation was.

“Ron?” He asked hoarsely. “Ginny? The Weasleys?” 

“They are alive,” McGonagall said, sage as always, “But many others have died, Harry. You will learn all their names, in time, but now-”

“Where is Ron,” Harry said, and it was less a question than anything. “I need to speak to him.”

“You may still find him at the Burrow,” his old professor said quietly. “Everyone has gone into hiding. A great number have fled the country. But the Weasleys - they are perhaps the most stubborn of all. Their remaining here makes a silent stand against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

“You’re still at Hogwarts,” Harry said. “Why?”

“The school has yet to shut down,” McGonagall said, “though it has most definitely become darker, crueler. But I shall remain here until the day those gates close for good, because my help is still required of many suffering students. And help must always be found at Hogwarts, for those who deserve it.”

 _Must_. A slight word twist from the original quote, and a lump formed in Harry’s throat.

“I’ll figure this out,” he said. “One day, none of this will have ever happened, because I’ll find my way back, and I’ll win this time.”

“I sincerely hope so,” she said, and the slightest, most wry smile curled the corner of her mouth. “Oh, and Potter?”

“Yes, Professor?”

“If you do manage to set everything right again, which is a long shot,” she said, “please don’t tell anyone of what happened in this alternate future - including me. I would rather remain in blissful ignorance, just for this one time.”

“Yes, Professor.”

“That, of course, would mean that you would be the only person in the world who knows of this time dimension, and that is quite a burden to carry on your shoulders.”

 _The only person in the world to remember that once, Hermione died before her time. That Voldemort won, that the Wizarding World fell to ruin_.

“Yes, Professor.”

“Of course,” McGonagall added, after a moment’s consideration, “I don’t even know if time travel is something that can even be achieved…”

“How about time-turners,” Harry demanded.

“That isn’t quite ‘time travel’,” she said knowingly, “and I don’t know of any place that you could find one of those anymore. They were all destroyed a while back.”

“Your vote of confidence inspires me,” Harry said softly. “Don’t you understand? If I can pull this off, then it won’t even matter that Her… that so many people were killed. Because it never would have happened.”

“I do understand,” she said, falling back into her seat at her desk. “But it may not even be possible for you to achieve this, and might perhaps be better if you tried to forget the Wizarding World, embraced your beloved dead and then moved on with your life - you have already missed out on twelve years of it. Your image is beginning to fade, Potter. I suppose this is goodbye.”

“Only if I don’t find a way back in time to fix this all,” Harry said, watching as the image of the Hogwarts office began to fade away, becoming slowly translucent. “But if I don’t - then goodbye.”

“I’m sorry for everything,” McGonagall said, and her voice was soft and echoing, as though she was speaking from the end of a long drainpipe, far, far away. “Remember that you will always be a true Gryffindor.”

Silence.

Gone.

Harry jutted out his jaw, pulling himself to his feet and taking another drachma up.

“Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow,” he said, “please accept my offering,” and he tossed the coin into the shimmering rainbow, where it vanished again. “Ronald Weasley,” he continued, knowing that this time was for real. “The Burrow.”

He should have at least braced himself for seeing how the hand of time had struck his friend.

* * *

Annabeth whipped out of the Athena Cabin, her mind whirling at a thousand metres per second. She pressed a hand to her forehead as she recalled Percy’s earlier words.

 _I believe that he called himself… a wizard_.

But then again, Percy had thought that ‘Harry’ had been ‘Arnold’, so could she really rely on his sense of hearing? But if it were true, it would explain a number of things, from Harry’s mysterious appearance by Thalia’s pine tree, to Chiron’s cryptic manner in concern to his school. On second thought, Annabeth pondered as she passed through the ring of cabins, a number of things didn’t align if he was who she suspected he was…

It was very quiet around, save the distant echo of Jason and Percy’s voices, drifting from around the corner. Annabeth poked her head around the corner to see Percy, Jason and Nico standing in a ring of three, Jason looking amused, Percy affronted and Nico as though he wished that he didn’t have to be there.

It was just so like those three, Annabeth thought. Being the three solo cabins of the Big Three, none of them ever seemed to follow an activity schedule - though then again, they made it up as they went along.

“Rainbows are incredibly romantic, okay buddy?” Jason was saying to Percy, and it was then that it struck Annabeth that Harry was missing from the cosy scene. She pieced it together - hanging around the cabins, speaking of rainbows, and the new camper out of sight? Obviously, Percy had allowed Harry use of his salt water spring to contact whoever he wanted to contact. 

Because Annabeth was a curious human being - curious to a point - and always had to _know_ (which she blamed on her mother), she decided that it was probably time to eavesdrop. Rude, but still. If Harry was any danger at all to Camp Half-Blood, then Annabeth would see to it that she knew precisely why.

Now - Poseidon’s Cabin. The door was open a crack, and Annabeth glanced over her shoulder to ensure that nobody was around to witness her spying on Harry. It was mercifully barren in the cabin’s ring, so she gently leaned by the threshold to watch.

He was speaking to an elderly woman, who appeared to be in shock as she looked at him.

“Ten years ago,” the woman was saying, “Hermione Granger was killed.”

Annabeth didn’t recognise the name, but Harry obviously did. She couldn’t see his face, but knew that it must be a picture of perfect anguish when his legs gave way beneath him and he collapsed.

Annabeth’s grip tightened on the doorframe to stop herself from bolting into the room to find out exactly what was going on, but remained in careful silence to witness what she prayed would be an enlightening conversation.

* * *

Ron was lying on his back, sprawled across his bed with an arm lying across his eyes. The same room that Harry knew from all of the past years that he had stayed at The Burrow - if he saw Hogwarts as his first home, then the Burrow was his second. It was the safe haven, the sanctuary that he had never known.

Harry almost chuckled. Almost. Twelve years ago, Ron never would have predicted that he would still be where he was, and yet here they were.

It seemed wrong to break the silence, but he did anyway.

“Ron,” Harry said to the wavering image.

“Not now.” Ron didn’t move his arm from over his eyes. “Let me stay in my happy place a few moments more.”

 _His happy place._ Something told Harry that that happy place took place twelve years back, before Voldemort had won, before he had vanished for years, and Hermione had been killed. Before the Wizarding World had fallen to hell.

“Alright, mate,” Harry said, unable to suppress the smile anymore, despite everything that he had just learnt. “Just don’t make me wait too long, because I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

A pause. Silence. An even longer pause. Still, Ron did not move.

“I think,” he said, after a momentary breath of air, “that I am becoming a bit unhinged in my senior years.”

“You’re twenty-nine, Ron,” Harry said, and realised how incredibly glad he was to be hearing a familiar voice once again. “I don’t know if that is considered ‘senior’.”

“Shut up, Harry,” Ron said. “I know that you’re not really here, and you’re just some voice in my head.”

“But I’m not,” Harry retorted.

“And ‘ _I’m not crazy_ ’ said the crazy person,” Ron countered.

“Look, Ron,” Harry said. “Just look at me, please.”

And so Ron lifted his arm from his eyes and stared at the image of Harry.

He had grown to be just as weary-looking as McGonagall, despite the age gap, and everything about him seemed old and drawn, all of that long-ago sarcastic humour siphoned out of him. Ron gave Harry a lopsided grin.

It broke Harry’s heart.

“You look just like you did back in the old Hogwarts days,” Ron said. “And you sound the exact same as well, but that isn’t possible because it’s been twelve years. Which means that this isn’t real.”

“I might have had a bit of an incident with time travel,” Harry said soberly. “But it _is_ me.”

“Honestly,” said Ron dryly. “No sane person sees a floating image of his long-dead best mate. Who looks just like he did when he died. Besides, Harry would never wear a fluorescent orange t-shirt.”

“It’s not fluorescent,” was the hot response. “And let me explain to you - as best as I can, because I don’t really understand either. Do you remember that day, when you, me and… and Hermione got the locket off of Umbridge?”

“Clear as mud,” said Ron. Harry persisted anyway.

“How I let go of Hermione’s hand as soon as you guys apparated away, because Yaxley had a hold on me?” 

“‘Yaxley’,” Ron repeated, and said it several more times to make it his mantra. “I long forgot that that was that prat’s name. Carry on.”

“I splinched by this pine tree,” Harry continued, unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes at Ron’s commentary.“And I think that I shouted for help, but then I must have blacked out - I was bleeding out a lot.”

“Whoa, coincidence,” Ron interjected, smiling stupidly. “If memory serves, then I also splinched when Hermione and I apparated without you.” The smile faded slowly, as if it was occurring to him once again that everything had changed since then.

“I woke up four days later - which is today, and turns out these campers had taken me in.” Harry frowned at Ron. “They’re demigods, turns out - kids of the Greek gods, who are apparently real, and I’m meant to be one of them.”

“I don’t know where this is going,” Ron said. “My brain must be a really crazy place, to be coming up with all of this from out of the blue.” Harry ignored him.

“This centaur called Chiron explained everything to me. He says that he was friends with Dumbledore. Anyway, I met a bunch of people, and one of them has lent me his, uh, stone basin thing to contact you. I tried to reach you at Grimmauld Place, but I couldn’t get through, so I tried McGonagall. At Hogwarts.” He inhaled a deep breath, and swallowed audibly. “She told me that I’ve been gone for twelve years, and that… that we’ve lost. And that we’ve lost a lot of people, too.”

_Hermione. Oh Merlin, Hermione, how did this happen to you?_

Ron’s face went blank, as if he could read Harry’s mind, and then he said softly, “It’s really you, isn’t it?”

“Yes!” Harry was unbearably close to tears suddenly. “Yes, it’s me, and I don’t know what has happened to me, how I’m suddenly twelve years in the future, and how it happened in four days. And how _he_ has won and Hermione’s died and how I’ve been told not to return there - to Britain. To home.” 

“You’re not here?” Ron asked. “You’re not in Britain?” Harry shook his head, and Ron exhaled sharply. “Good. If you want to live any longer, Harry, then don’t come back here. Don’t tell anyone you’re name, or so much as _breathe_ it. To the world, you died twelve years ago, and it would be best if it remained that way.”

“Why?” Harry said, his voice breaking, and the tears spilled over his eyes. “It doesn’t have to remain that way. This was never meant to happen. If I just returned, then I could face _him_ , end this all finally.”

“He’s too strong, Harry,” Ron said harshly. “It’s too late. It’s over. Create an alias, stay in that Greek god place of yours, whatever it takes.”

“I’m not dead, Ron,” said Harry, trying to wipe the tears off of his face, to no avail as they just continued to fall. “I didn’t die, I’m right here. I can’t just leave the Wizarding World. It’s my home.”

“Home is where you make it,” Ron replied, and tears were gathering in the corners of his eyes now as well. “Make it somewhere else. You’re the Chosen One. You can do anything you put your mind to.”

“I don’t want to put my mind to it,” Harry whispered, and the desperation in his voice was obvious now. He didn’t bother to hide it. He couldn’t leave. “I want to come back. I want to see you again, and Ginny, and Fred and George and the rest of your family. I want to see Remus, and Neville, and Luna. I want to… I want to visit Hermione’s grave. Say goodbye. And go back to Hogwarts.” A sob escaped Harry’s throat. “I want to come home.”

“I want a lot of things, too, Harry,” said Ron, gazing at him gravely. “Most of all, I want a time before any of this happened. But the years have taught me something - it’s not going to happen.”

“It will,” Harry said fiercely. “I’m going to find a way to travel back in time, and then make sure that none of this ever happens. Nobody but me will remember anything. And I’ll be fine with just that.” Ron’s image was fading now. Too fast. It was fading far too fast.

“That would be just brilliant, wouldn’t it,” said Ron, and seeing Harry’s expression, added, “You’re saying goodbye now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Harry said softly. “But I’ll see you again in the past. In the future. In the past’s future.”

“Maybe,” Ron said, and his voice dropped away as his image did, as though vanishing down a drainpipe to a place of no ends. “ _Maybe_.”

The silence was resounding, and Harry was left with nothing but his thoughts finally. And so, with no reasons left to hold himself together anymore, Harry dropped to his knees, bunching his shirt in his hands, and wept every tear that was owed to him of the twelve years of his life denied to him.

* * *

Annabeth silently left the sobbing boy to the dark place that tears take a person to.

* * *

“It’s been a while, don’t you think?” Percy said, staring up at the sky as he ambled back towards his cabin. “You think Harry’s lost his way back here?”

“You don’t give him enough credit,” Jason said, following after lazily. “We’re just around the corner.”

“I might just head off now,” Nico said, refusing to follow his two supposed cousins, and Jason peered over his shoulder at him.

“Why?” he said, then laughed. “Harry make you uncomfortable? Need me to talk to him for you?” He puckered his face up into a baby-face.

“No,” Nico rebutted hotly, his face warming. “Yes. Maybe. Whatever. Jeez, Jason, you’re not my mom.”

“Give him a break, Jason,” Percy said, and paused by his cabin door, which was just slightly ajar. He tipped his head, half-anticipating hearing a conversation still going on, but heard only silence. He pushed the door open, Jason peering over his shoulder and Nico standing a few steps back with his arms folded and a dark expression on his face.

Harry was on his knees before the saltwater-spring basin, and appeared to be staring at the wall, from where Percy was standing.

“Hey,” he said into the quiet room, unsure of whether he was disrupting some silent peace ritual or whatever - who knew what the British did? “You all good?”

He moved around the room, Jason and Nico still loitering outside, so that he ended up a little in front of Harry, and was shocked to see that his eyes were reddened from crying, making his irises an even starker green.

“No,” Harry said, gazing at the basin as if he could see its very soul. “I’m not all good. Not really.”

Percy glanced over to Jason and Nico, who must have sensed the wrongness of everything and were now leaning through the doorway, though refusing to take a step inside, as if some sacred barrier would be broken if they did. Nico raised his eyebrows. Jason shrugged. Percy glanced back at Harry, cleared his throat, then said, “Want to talk about it?”

Harry opened his mouth, paused, furrowed his brow, then said, “I don’t really know if I can.”

“What?” Percy gestured to himself, then Harry. “I’m right here. You’re right there. What’s there to not be able to do?”

“I… I can’t say,” was the ever cryptic response, but the tone just seemed bewildered and glum. “Not really. Let’s just say that two people… two people just died.” When he met Percy’s eyes, his were filled with resigned gloom.

Percy remained silent, unsure of what to say. What to say?

“They were close to you?” he asked finally, and the corner of Harry’s mouth curled into something akin to a sneer.

“Close?” he repeated, almost ridiculing the question. “Close. Let’s just say, one of them was my best friend, and the other… the other was a person who I’ve known all my life. A person who I know better than anyone else in the world. Gone.”

“I’m sorry,” Percy said, even though he had nothing to apologise for. “It’s hard. Losing people.”

“I know,” Harry said quietly, and he heaved a deep breath, dragging a hand through his hair. “But it’s over. There’s nothing I can do about it - at least, not now.”

 _Not ever_ , Percy thought, though didn’t say aloud. _Death - the real kind - tends to be forever._ But he kept his mouth closed.

“Look,” Jason called from outside. “Last period’s finished. Everyone’s coming back.”

“Dude,” Percy said, exasperated. “No one asked you to play narrator.” He turned to Harry. “Look, you can stay here if you want, until everybody calms down a bit. They’ll all be wanting to meet you, but I get that it’s hard. Going through this. You wouldn’t want to be swamped.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, taking in a sniffling breath. “Okay, I might stay in here for a bit.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” said Percy, glancing over his shoulder towards the open doorway. “I’ll come get you at, like, dinner?”

“Okay.”

With an awkward nod of his head, Percy retreated out of the room, closing the door behind him, before turning to face the approaching people. Jason was already heading towards them, but Nico remained by Percy’s cabin door, looking rather bleak.

“What happened?” he asked, and Percy turned to stare at the Son of Hades, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“Some people he knew just died,” he said, before turning to gaze skywards. “It seems to me that Harry’s right now in the middle of a conflict of his own. I don’t know where he comes from, I don’t know _who_ he is, but I do know that he’s hurting. A lot.”

Nico wheeled around to stare at the now-closed cabin door, as if he could see straight through it into the room. He frowned.

“They died?” he asked. “How? Why? When?”

“Might as well add ‘who’ and ‘where’ to that list,” Percy said, and then glared at Nico when he saw the thoughtful expression on his face. “Nico. No. Harry seems like a friendly guy, but none of us really _know_ him. You _can’t_ just stroll into the Underworld and try to find these people.”

“Well, I _can_ ,” Nico said, passing Percy a sneaky look.

“But you _won’t_.” Percy braced his hands against his hips and attempted to look intimidating. “One. You can’t just come and go from camp whenever you please. You’re a _part_ of it now. Two. You don’t know who to look for. Three. Harry doesn’t want anyone prying in his past. Just leave it be.”

“He might _want_ me to find these people, though,” Nico offered, rolling his skull ring around his finger. He made to move forwards. “Might be doing him a favour. Look, I’ll ask him now.”

“ _No._ ” Percy shoved himself against his cabin door go prevent Nico from entering. A shudder ran through his body as he recalled the Underworld. He refused to return there. Because if Nico went, he would have to, because he wouldn’t abandon Nico to it ever again. But it was out of the question. “Seriously. No.”

“Why?” Nico demanded, beginning to radiate a dark aura, and shadows seemed to gather around him. “Why are you so against me going? Believe it or not, I’m _used_ to the Underworld. It’s my realm.”

Percy took a slow breath, to calm his nerves. He was not in the mood to discuss realms - and he knew a lot about them.

“Because,” he said, “if I do, then _I_ will have to go with you, and if _I_ go, then Annabeth will come… and I can’t do it again. Not this soon.”

“ _You_ wouldn’t have to tag along,” Nico ground out. “I don’t remember inviting you.”

“Why do you want to go so bad?” Percy threw his hands in the air, his voice rising, and then quickly lowered it to a hiss so as to prevent Harry from hearing. “You barely even _know_ him.”

“Kindness is my forte,” said Nico, though slight colouring began to creep across his face. He avoided Percy’s eye. “Everybody should know _that_ already. Gods.”

Percy stared at Nico hard, and he shuffled his feet slightly. A sneaking suspicion began to build in Percy’s gut, but he knew that he wasn’t really close enough to the other boy to question him. So he left it be, easing away from his cabin door slightly.

“Leave Harry alone for now,” he said either way, and Nico shrugged, turning his face away. Clearing his throat, Percy walked away to meet Annabeth, who was standing apart from the other campers, who had congregated around Jason, wearing a frown on her face.

“You okay?” he asked as he approached her, and Annabeth flicked a cursory glance at him, before staring away into some invisible and unknown territory that only the children of Athena had the ability to see with those wise and clear crystal-grey eyes.

“I don’t know if I trust him,” she said, and Percy released an uncomfortable laugh.

“Who?” he asked. “Nico?”

“No, I trust Nico,” she said, and slowly tilted her chin towards his cabin. “It’s _him_. Something’s off. He shouldn’t be here.” The foreboding in her tone sent a shiver crawling across Percy’s skin.

“What do you mean?” he said, shooting a glance of his own over to his cabin, which was suddenly radiating an air of menace. “What do you know? Why shouldn’t he be here?”

Annabeth didn’t reply for a moment, and merely began tugging on a loose lock of her hair.

“Why shouldn’t he be here?” Percy repeated, leaning forwards to see Annabeth’s face properly, but she seemed to take no notice of his question - no more than the first time he had asked.

“I don’t understand,” she murmured to herself. “It makes no sense. What really happened twelve years ago?”

* * *

**Keep being beautiful, lovely readers, and prep yourself for the lovely Piper’s introduction next chapter!**

 

**~Black Cat Widow~**


	7. Chapter 7

**We’re back in business! Let’s gooooo! Sorry I’m an inconsistent writer... -_-**

**To make it up to you, let’s enjoy a little bit of Nico POV this chapter. :3**

* * *

 

_“I don’t understand,” she murmured to herself. “It makes no sense. What really happened twelve years ago?”_

* * *

 

Nico watched as Percy - the stupid, high-and-mighty prick - stalked away to meet his girlfriend, obviously still totally pissed off at him. For trying to be a nice, decent person. Nico was pretty sure that if any nice, decent person had the power to drop into the underworld for a quick visit to check for their new crush’s - er, soul mate, hottie, _no_ , pal, or, um, acquaintance-who-happens-to-be-damn-good-lookin’ - dead friends, then they would. Most definitely.

Nico sighed heavily. He didn’t have the best history of crushes, in all honesty, and it frightened him that when he gazed at Harry, he felt such intense attraction. He was such a creep. And, gods, why did it have to feel so complicated as well? Nico wasn’t even entirely sure whether he liked Harry for _Harry_ , or whether it was because he looked so much like the long-lost cause of Percy, or if it was just his hormones, which were - no. Nico told himself to shut up. He was not about to start talking about his stupid teenage hormones. And then, there was also the other problem of…

“Hey Nico,” came the voice of a certain blonde, shaggy-haired Son of Apollo. “What’s up?”

“Me?” Nico said, automatically becoming slightly flustered in the face of Will Solace. “I… no thanks. I mean, what?”

Will laughed, as if Nico was the most adorable thing that he had ever seen. Yes, Will Solace was the ‘other problem’. The son of the god of medicine, music, prophecy, the sun - and many more things that Nico wouldn’t even bother listing - somehow had the capability to make Nico’s heart melt in his ribcage. Will was around his age, slightly older, was tall, slim and browned with an infinite number of sun freckles on his nose, but what was most unbelievable was that he actually seemed to be into, _into_ Nico. Which was a first. Who was into a death kid, after all?

“I said, what’s up?” Will repeated, pulling Nico out of his thoughts, bearing one of the friendliest tone that Nico had ever heard - so friendly that he doubted that a person like himself could ever come near to replicating it, even if he tried. Hard.

“Nothing,” Nico said, then blushed. “Not much.”

“From what I’ve heard,” Will said, lowering his voice and leaning forwards with a conspiratorial expression on his face, “you shadowed away a mysterious, dying foreigner in order to save his life.”

Nico felt the hot flush in his cheeks begin to die away in that moment, to be replaced by a grim feeling of dread again. He found himself glaring at the ground in a most uncharacteristic way as to when he was usually in the presence of Will.

“I might have,” he said roughly, and in his peripheral vision, saw Will staring at him in surprise.

“You okay?” he said in a mildly concerned voice.

“I’m fine,” Nico responded, his tone sharper than normal, before softening slightly and dragging his fingers through his hair. “Sorry. This newcomer has just thrown me a bit off-kilter, and the fact that he looks so much like Jackson… really, _really_ bad news if they’re brothers…”

“I’ve heard about that,” Will said thoughtfully. “That they’re pretty similar looking - from Trevor Stoll, who said that he got it straight from the mouth of Annabeth Chase.”

“Yeah, he’d _want_ to get it straight from Annabeth’s mouth, wouldn’t he,” said Nico coldly, realising the possible interpretation of his statement several moments too late as Will burst out into crowing laughter.

“You crack me up, Nico,” he announced amidst his loose chuckles, which held the affect over Nico of nothing short of warm, honey-sweet sunlight on his skin after a cold day down in Hell. Literally. If only he’d actually made a funny joke, instead of some stupid word slip-up…

“I don’t mean-” Nico spluttered, scratching an eyebrow uncomfortably. “I meant- ah, gods…”

“Relax, Di Angelo,” Will said playfully, and it seemed to Nico that he was leaning in slightly - just the most subtle tilt of his head. “Trevor Stoll is not the only one who’s interested in getting things straight from other people’s mouths, you know…”

 _Holy mother of Hera, oh shit_. Nico was almost certain that if he put his mind to it, he would be able to count every single violet thread of colour shot through Will’s crystal blue eyes, because he was so near, and were they really going to…?

“But maybe next time, hey?” Will finished teasingly, nipping at the end of Nico’s nose in an arch manner, to which Nico realised that he had been holding his breath, as though his life were on the line. He hurriedly averted his gaze with a scowl mocking his true one - if he were _really_ angry, Nico knew, then the sky would be throbbing with darkness.

“Ah, shove off,” Nico said, only half-heartedly as Will gently tugged on his earring before backing off.

“You should wear gold more often,” he said, winking. “It suits you.” He seemed to almost dissolve into the hoards of other campers.

Nico tried not to smile, and resisted the urge to raise a hand to the gold ring through his left ear.

Stupid, moronic flirt. Not that he didn’t like it. He did. Way too much.

* * *

Annabeth still wouldn’t speak to Percy. She wouldn’t speak to Jason - no surprise there - nor Nico either, and not even Piper, whose kaleidoscopic eyes made it near impossible to resist when she wanted something.

Percy was bearing witness to it - again, as he, Annabeth, Jason and Piper stood in a loose circle at no particular table at dinnertime.

“Something’s _really_ , really wrong,” Piper said, for perhaps the hundredth time that hour. She peered into Annabeth’s face with a slight, mischievous tilt to her lips and her eyes - now shimmering a shade caught somewhere between violet and sapphire - bright with sly curiosity. She angled an eyebrow. “What’s going ooooooon, Annabeth Chase?”

Annabeth glanced away hurriedly from where she had been staring at Harry. Again.

“Nothing,” she said, and it could have almost passed as an off-hand comment if it hadn’t been for that glint of suspicion that she had been wearing in the set of her face all night. Percy sighed quietly. He had honestly no idea what it was that she found so intriguing about Harry. It had to be something critical, if it had snagged her attention the way that it had.

He looked towards the newcomer, as though trying to catch sight of what it was that Annabeth saw.

Harry stood at the edge of the clearing, his face cold and empty, speaking to nobody unless spoken to, in which case he gave short and sharp answers to. The dinner’s firelight danced in the reflection of his glasses, making it impossible to see his eyes, but Percy recognised that posture, the one which stated clearly that he was at some place far, far away and perhaps also long, long ago. Lost in his thoughts.

Percy drew himself out of his reflection in time to hear Piper leaving a parting quibble regarding Annabeth’s tight-lip.

“What’s up, Jackson?” Jason said, following Percy’s line of sight, and then made a knowing tut-tut noise. “Your twin concerning you too?”

“He’s not my twin,” Percy parried shortly, and completely half-heartedly.

“Don’t worry,” Jason continued, grinning so that his canines glinted in the light. “It’s probably just a really fleeting crush. Annabeth would’t leave you for him, you’ve been through too much together.”

“Grace!” Percy barked in response, his full attention finally captured, to which the Son of Jupiter laughed, throwing his hands up in surrender.

“I’m joking!” he said. “Gods, lighten up, Perce. You three’ve been so tightly strung since Harry arrived.”

‘You three’ meaning him and Annabeth, Percy interpreted, and the third being… well, who? Presumably Nico, he supposed.

Percy expelled a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing.

“Sorry,” he said to Jason. “Just not feeling myself at the moment. Who’s ‘you three’, exactly?”

“You, the lovely ‘Wise Girl’,” Jason listed, nicking Percy’s usual nickname for Annabeth, “and Nico. I dunno, it seemed like we were all beginning to get through to him, Will especially, but he seems to have clammed up in the past few days all over again.”

Percy scoured through the crowd of demigod heads with his eyes, hunting for the one who emitted such a dark aura about him, but didn’t see the familiar sable head of hair anywhere.

“About Nico,” Percy said in a low voice, “he wants to go back into the Underworld to find Harry’s…” his voice trickled away, like the final solitary droplets of water running from a waterfall gone dry, when he caught Annabeth’s eye and realised that she had heard him.

Jason, not catching on, picked up the ball when Percy dropped it.

“Harry’s—” he began, but was cut short.

“Nico what?” Annabeth intervened, her voice shriller than usual, making Jason jump slightly. Her eyes were round as saucers, the irises resembling swirling quicksilver.

Piper shot Percy an accusing look, clearly blaming him for dragging Annabeth into this panicked state, and returned a glance which was probably equally as alarmed as Annabeth’s.

He stepped forwards, reaching out and taking his girlfriend’s hand in his. Her palms felt clammy, her fingers cold. Whatever it was which was hounding her - it was serious.

“I told him not to,” Percy said, in a poor attempt of reassurance, and Annabeth tugged out of his grip, chuckling bitterly, eyes already sweeping around, in search of a new target.

“Good lot that’ll do,” she muttered. “Where did you guys last see him?”

“Dunno,” Jason said. “Like, outside Percy’s cabin? Don’t think I saw him at dinner…”

“You don’t think he’s gone, do you?” Percy asked anxiously. Piper stepped in then, hands braced on her hips and finger tapping agitatedly against her pelvis bone.

“Hold your horses, pony boy,” she said, frowning. “What’s going on?”

“Of course he didn’t go,” Annabeth said, taking a step away from their enclosed circle. “I’ve been watching Harry this whole time, and not once did Nico approach him. And without approaching him, Nico couldn’t find her in the Underworld. It would be like searching for…”

“A pin in a haystack?” Jason offered helpfully.

“Nico couldn’t find _who_?” Piper parroted, a tone of irritation creeping into her voice.

“I’ve got to go.” Without so much as a backward glance, Annabeth was gone.

“Flighty,” said Jason.

“I just don’t get it,” Percy said, turning to face his two remaining companions. “What exactly does she think that she knows about Harry?”

“Will somebody _please_ explain to me what Nico has to do with this?” Piper stepped in between Percy and Jason before they could initiate another conversation which left her devoid of any sense that it was making. It was inexplicably a visible thing on Jason’s face when he thoughts paused in his head, as he looked down at Piper with the standard adoration written across his features.

“You explain,” Percy said to Jason. “I should check on Harry.”

“I get that people’ve been making jokes about you and Annabeth being his babysitters, Percy,” Piper called after him, “but that’s all it is, I think - just _jokes_. He’s not a baby.”

“In a world where gods exist,” Percy called back, “he may as well be. I’ll see you guys later.”

* * *

 

No matter how much he thought about it, Harry still couldn’t manage to get his head around the fact that he was supposedly ten years in the future and that he currently lived within a world with Hermione Granger. It seemed more real hours ago, when he had spoken to McGonagall and Ron, but now it just seemed like a bad dream which had faded away with daylight.

A number of other campers, demigods - Harry didn’t know what to call them - had come to make his acquaintance over the period of post-dinner, the most memorable being Connor and Travis Stoll, the head counsellors of the Hermes Cabin. They both shared an air about them which reminded Harry strongly of Fred and George Weasley - which didn’t really help. In fact, everywhere he looked, there were reminders wherever he looked of what he had left behind. And it hurt. So he had retired away to the dark outskirts of the area, where nobody bothered him to a great extent, and he was free to his thoughts, though perhaps that was not a great thing.

Just a couple of days ago, he had been bolting through the Ministry of Magic with Ron and Hermione, a horcrux in her pocket, and wand in each of their hands. Spells ricocheting behind them, missing their mark each time. Living on the edge. And now…

Harry missed his wand. Chiron had never told him where his wand had even been hidden. But most of all, he missed…

“Hey, man,” a voice broke into his thoughts. “How’re you holding up?”

Harry’s eyes darted sideways, and found Percy standing there, looking awkward. He had left behind Jason and the kaleidoscopic-eyed beauty, and Annabeth was nowhere in sight.

“Alright,” Harry said, heaving a shrug. Then, feeling that he owed the other guy some, for keeping an eye out for him, he added, “Nice place.”

Percy snorted, and glanced at Harry with eyes which sparkled bright turquoise in the moonlight. But there was something different behind them, now, which couldn’t be ignored. A hint of suspicion, forming a hard wall on Percy’s face.

“So, anyway,” Percy continued, “You’re, you know, undetermined… meaning, your god-parent hasn’t claimed you as theirs yet. So you’ll be staying with the Hermes cabin. God of travellers and all. I should probably introduce you to the counsellors…”

“Already met them,” Harry said, his tone shorter than it had meant to be. He cleared his throat, tried to soften his delivery. “Um, Travis and Connor, right?”

“Yeah,” Percy said. He turned his head to scan the campers momentarily, and then back around with a weak grin on his face. “Took quite an interest to you, those two did. They’re good guys, but… be careful around them.”

“You’re kind of contradicting yourself there,” Harry said, and then feeling that he was coming across as a smartass, loosed a quick chuckle. “I mean, sure. They’re not gonna stab me in the back or anything, are they?”

“No,” Percy corrected himself. “What I meant was that they’re the sons of, basically the original thief. They might nick something from your pockets at anytime if you’re not careful. It’s what they’re known for.”

“Okay,” Harry said, subconsciously patting his pockets, though he didn’t have anything of value in them. He didn’t have anything at all. Hence, this drew his thoughts immediately back to his missing his wand.

“So, I guess I’ll take you to Cabin 11 later,” Percy finished, nodding his head decisively. “And we’ll figure stuff out tomorrow, I guess. You may want to speak to the Oracle then.”

“Okay,” Harry repeated, unwilling to question it, though the term ‘Oracle’ merely conjured an image of Trelawney in his head, huge spectacles and spangled shawl and all. A hand suddenly grabbed him on the shoulder from his blind spot, and he jumped. Percy was grinning now.

“Hey, Harry!” a voice said in his ear brightly. “Is it alright if I call you Harry?”

“What?” Harry turned his head slowly, half expecting to find a monster baring her teeth at him.

But it was just that girl from earlier, who he had seen with Jason. She really was stunning, especially up close. Of Native American descent, with deeply tanned skin and dark hair which was choppily cut and beaded down some strands, there was a raw beauty on her face which left Harry blinking a few times, not really absorbing the fact that he was gaping at her.

“Um, hi,” he said around his tongue which seemed about a foot long now. “Yeah, you can call me beautiful. I mean Harry. James Evans. Harry James Evans?”

“Great,” she said, beaming at him, her eyebrows cocked slightly in amusement. “I could call you Harry James Evans most of the time, and beautiful at others, if you want.”

Harry blushed, just as Jason stepped out from behind her, arm draped around her shoulders. Harry’s stomach lurched.

“Daughter of Aphrodite,” Percy hissed to Harry. “Always wanted to be one of Athena’s though.”

“Awful lot brighter than the rest of Aphrodite’s,” Jason through in, and the girl laughed.

“I don’t know whether I’m meant to blush and giggle, ‘oh stop it’, or if I should outright agree with you,” she said, to which Jason nuzzled his face into her hair. She then outstretched a hand to Harry. “I’m Piper McLean. Nice to meet you, beautiful.”

“Nice to meet you, um, beautiful,” Harry said, awkwardly mimicking the last word that she had tacked on.

“So you’re British,” Piper questioned, mouth quirking slightly. “It different in these parts, compared to what you’re used to?”

Harry glanced at Percy, then at Jason, and then set his shoulders straight and looked directly into her eyes of glittering brown and green.

He said, “More than you could know.”

* * *

The sun was sinking, the huge, orange orb nearing the horizon gradually. A sea breeze whipped at Nico’s face, raw and salty against his skin. He pondered why not a single day of his life could be simple, just for once. It had seemed to him that things were beginning to settle down, that he might possibly, _possibly_ , get to, perhaps, actually get somewhere with Will. But in the past few days, things had begun to play up again. Another child of the Big Three? Almost definitely, if they were playing off of physical looks alone. The likelihood? Percy’s brother. And what a load of shit that would put them all in. Nico then considered the possibilities of attaining a half-brother himself, and felt a jolt of panic in him. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t like having a brother - it would be nice to be, for once, not the outcast. To have somebody who stood with him. But at the same time the predicament of sticking somebody else into his lonely shoes wasn’t a thrilling prospect either. And somewhere, deep down, he knew that there was another, more selfish reason. Percy was off the radar now, and he’d gotten over his previous infatuation anyway. Nothing ever would have happened, either way. Will stood there, a ray of sunlight, the yin to Nico’s yang, and Nico liked him, he really did. He wished, as he burrowed his hands deeper into his jacket’s pockets and stared unblinkingly out at the darkening sky, that Harry could just leave, pack his suitcases and be off by the very next morning. But that was highly unlikely. Nico also wished that he only saw Harry as another pretty face amidst a crowd of others, but knew that it wasn’t they way, either. There was something which made him think that they just might be connected. Connected how, he didn’t know. But it was the most primal instinct within him, which made it seem so…

“Nico?” Annabeth’s voice, dancing through the sweet layers of the atmosphere of dusk. Which was most interesting. Nico couldn’t remember a time that Annabeth Chase had sought him out, alone.

“Yes?” he slowly rotated, his heels digging crevices into the sand beneath his feet. There she was, storming her way across the beach to him, and even in the dim lighting, he could make out the sharp planes of her face, tight with barely suppressed panic.

“Nico,” she repeated, breath catching in her throat as she neared him and finally paused, a meter away from him. “Gods, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Do you normally come out here after dinner?”

“When the occasion calls for it,” Nico shrugged in response, and then crossed his arms, subconsciously defensive. “Why? What’s going on? Some disaster back at the camp? Need me to call off some loose hellhounds or something?” The joke slipped past unnoticed.

Annabeth continued to look at him, with worry bright in her eyes.

“You want to go to the Underworld,” she said. “You want to find the ones who Harry lost.”

Alright, now he definitely had a reason to feel defensive. Nico’s arms tightened against his chest.

“Yes,” he said curtly. “But that doesn’t really concern anybody but me. Like I told Percy, I’m not inviting anybody else along. I don’t _want_ to, or _need_ to.”

“You’ll only be getting us all into trouble,” Annabeth said, her tone sharpening now.

“Oh, so you guys are all allowed to go off and play hero whenever you want to,” Nico snapped, “and this one time that I want to help somebody, _I’m_ the bad guy?” He raked a hand through his hair in agitation, looking away from her. “This storyline is so fucking predictable.”

“And how does that storyline go, then?” Annabeth bristled.

“Well, shall we just say, nothing’s ever gonna change,” Nico bit back. “You all say you’re gonna accept us, all the ones who are _different_ , and you smile and wave at us during the day, but in the end, everything’s still the same. I’m still the villain. Or the village idiot, who’s going to ruin everybody’s rainbows and lollipops and sparkly unicorns.”

“It’s not about you!” Annabeth shouted. “It’s about all the demigods, and Harry, more importantly, Harry!”

She suddenly fell silent, all visible tension draining from her body. Nico stared at her.

“What’s he got to do with it?” he said, his lips barely moving. “Why is it, ‘more importantly’, Harry?”

Annabeth glanced away for a fraction of a second, and when she looked back at him, she had an air of calm collectedness around herthat previous, unpredictable fire gone and replaced by the standard Annabeth Chase package.

“I’m sorry,” she said, breathing deeply. “I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“What has Harry got to do with it?” Nico repeated.

“He may not be who you think he is,” Annabeth wound out slowly. “He may not be who any of us think he is, and if he is who I believe that he is, then it could be dastardly, for all of us.”

“What do you mean?” Nico glared at her in exasperation. “He’s just another teenager. Who do you think he is?”

“I can’t say,” Annabeth said. “I _shouldn’t_ say. I swear, if I’m right, then I’m going to try to handle it, alone. But if I can’t, then… then I suppose that I couldn’t hide it any longer.”

“Don’t hide it now!” Nico said, his voice rising. “Just tell us, for the sake of the gods!”

Annabeth quietly turned on her heels.

“You don’t know anything about him,” she said softly. “Don’t go into the Underworld. Don’t try to make contact with anybody who has anything to do with the guy who calls himself ‘Harry Evans’. I’ll handle this.”

“You kids of Athena!” Nico yelled after her. “Sometimes I see why intelligence really isn’t the same thing as common sense! Why do you all have this pointless urge to have to go about everything solo, it’s ridiculous!”

“This ‘pointless urge’ may be what saves your spine one day,” Annabeth parried, with a laugh which could almost pass as pleasant if it wasn’t for the undertone of bitterness.

Nico watched her go without argument, before once again turning to watch the sky. Over the period of time in which his mind was elsewhere, the sun had vanished from view, on its way to break the dawn of a new day elsewhere.

* * *

 

**Okay, this chapter was just pretty uneventful for me (possibly for you, too?), apart from incorporating Will, Piper, and Annabeth and Nico’s little wrangle. Which was fun. I enjoy scripting arguments, especially when it’s angsty Nico. Alrighty, see you next time with an exciting face-off between two of our main characters…**

 

**~Black Cat Widow~**


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

 

**First of all – thank you all so much for reading, commenting, kudo-ing, subscribing...**

**I’m gonna be pretty busy with schoolwork and all that, so updates will be a lot less regular (but since my updates are already pretty inconsistent, I doubt you’ll notice much of a change… I’m sorry!) DX**

 

**WARNING: MINOR RAPE MENTION.**

* * *

 

The Hermes cabin really was overcrowded, Harry decided as he peered into the room. There evidently weren’t enough bunkbeds, and so many had taken to sleeping bags on the floor.

Percy peered in over Harry’s shoulder. Jason and Piper had both called their farewells to Harry already, to which he waved back weakly, leading to ongoing teasing from Percy about him being ‘soft on Piper’. Annabeth was still nowhere in sight. Harry uneasily recalled Chiron’s warning about her being the sharpest knife in the block - probably sharp enough to cut the block to shreds, he thought.

Percy then thumped him on the back.

“Looks like you’ll have tons of fun here,” he whispered. “Cabin full of thieves is a pretty lively place, most of the time.”

Harry shot him a dirty glance over his shoulder, to which the other guy chirruped cheerfully.

“Just joking,” he sang. “Anyway, they might not take too kindly to being called thieves. I know a bunch of them, and they’re all pretty cool guys. And girls,” he added.

Harry didn’t reply, just continued to indiscreetly observe his soon-to-be fellow cabin mates. He heard Percy sigh.

“You know, I started out in this same cabin,” Percy admitted.

Harry paused in his thoughts.

“I was twelve years old, a real lonely kid,” he continued. “At the time, everybody thought that I was just dumb and dyslexic - two ‘d’s to match my ‘D’ report card. I was kicked out of all of my schools, ‘cause I was so useless. Everybody thought so. Except my mom.”

When Percy fell subconsciously quiet, Harry, fascinated by the backstory, prompted, “Your mum?”

“Yeah, my mom’s kind of my hero,” Percy said, nervously cupping the back of his neck and averting his eyes. “She was married to this… the only thing I can call him is a big, sleazy fuck-wit. For years. For me. She used his human scent to mask mine, so that the monsters wouldn’t find me. I’m fairly sure that he used to hit her.” Something dark sparked in his eyes. “But she got him back, in the end.”

“Oh,” Harry said stupidly, and was saved from floundering for something else to say when Connor Stoll passed by, and catching sight of Harry and Percy, paused.

“Come to claim your eternal grave?” he asked, voice dropping to a whisper.

“My _what_?” Harry repeated.

“He means your bed,” Percy interjected, rolling his eyes. “Well, I’d best be off now. See ya in the morning, Harry.”

Harry turned back around to face Connor. Connor flashed his teeth in a wolfish grin.

* * *

This was how Harry found himself lying in a sleeping bag on the floor, surrounding by a great number of others. Others just like him. Well, not in the sense that they were all the supposedly forbidden mix of wizard and demigod, but in that they weren’t wanted.

Okay, Harry told himself darkly as he stared up at the ceiling. Perhaps that was a bit of a stretch. A lot of the people in this cabin really did belong here, having already been claimed by their father, Hermes. But the rest, who were undetermined, just like him? They probably _weren’t_ wanted by their parent. Parents. Whatever. Just as he probably wasn’t.

It seemed to Harry that no matter where he was, whenever he started out in a new world, it would begin with a rocky journey of trying to be accepted, by others and himself. So by landing here in Camp Half-Blood, he had managed to throw his world into a mass of uncertainty. At least, more uncertainty than there had been before. Because if he really was a demigod (and it seemed that he must be, without a doubt), then that meant that Lily and James Potter weren’t his true parents. Or one of them wasn’t. Somebody had sacrificed themselves for a child who wasn’t theirs – had they even known this fact? And that hurt. It hurt more than Harry cared to admit. Obviously somebody had cheated on the other. It seemed the only logical explanation. Unless somebody had been taken advantage of, in some dark alleyway one night… Harry didn’t want to even consider that option, it made his stomach turn over.

 _But what if that was the case…_ what if Harry really was an accidental, unwanted child who had been conceived under less than savoury circumstances?

He felt sick all of a sudden and bolted upright abruptly. He would not be sleeping anytime soon.

Still dressed in pyjama bottoms which Trevor Stoll had conjured up from who-knows-where and his CHB t-shirt, Harry crawled out of his sleeping bag, his shuffling noisy to his own ears, and yanked on his boots while fishing for his glasses somewhere around the sleeping bag’s head area and plonking them onto his nose. The world slid into focus, and Harry finished tying his laces before silently scarpering between unconscious bodies, swinging the cabin door open and pushing into the night.

* * *

The night had a way of making you feel her silence, Annabeth thought from where she lay in the grass, just next to the ring of cabins, gazing up at the distant stars. It unfailingly made her feel ever so lonely when she watched the night sky. It was probably the knowledge that she was looking into the past which brought about this sentiment. In fact, the furthest away known star lay thirteen point three billion light years, which was, to say, a very long way away. And also, Annabeth supposed, a very long time ago as well.

The crunch of leaves underfoot set her on high alert immediately, as she sat upright quickly, eyes scanning for the disturbance in the night’s silence.

There.

A figure of a person, coming around the corner from where the front doors of the cabins were. Barely ten metres away.

Her eyes locked onto the eyes of the other, and a jolt ran up her spine when she registered that they were bright green, the colour of emeralds.

“Harry,” she said, frozen where she was. Harry ‘Evans’ appeared to have been struck stupid the same way that she had.

“Annabeth,” he acknowledged, both peering at each other warily, like two cornered rabbitscome face-to-face. Neither had spoken to each other since Harry had first woken from his coma-like state. Back then, this mysterious boy had been an enigma. Annabeth had felt completely out of her league, overwhelmed as she tried to understand him and his circumstances, and feeling overwhelmed was the worst possible sensation for any child of Athena. But over the course of the day, she had successfully gathered enough information to finally have a feel for her bearings again. She didn’t like what she had found. But at least she now knew what she was facing.

Neither spoke again, and this time, the silence that Annabeth felt was not the silence of the night, but the silence of before a mighty storm.

With shrewd eyes, she examined the newcomer. Harry wasn’t particularly tall, but certainly stood taller than she, and his hair looked dishevelled. His face was pale in the moonlight, all sharp, aristocratic planes, but his eyes were as bright as green flames. He knew.

He knew that Annabeth knew. It was obvious, the scent of vigilance rolled off of his skin in heady waves, as if he suspected that Annabeth would suddenly jump him. Maybe she should. If she wasn’t too preoccupied trying to figure out if he would jump her first.

Slowly, she climbed to her feet, uncomfortable with the fact that she was wearing flannel pyjamas and had no weapon on her. At least they appeared to be on even footing, then. Plus, she highly doubted that Harry was trained in hand-to-hand combat, as she was. He was practised in a more… arcane art.

Annabeth mentally chastised herself. She was being an idiot for assuming that this meeting would come down to a fight. Honestly, they were right outside the cabins in Camp Half-Blood.

“Nice night,” Harry finally said, and Annabeth almost snorted. Who was he kidding?

“What are you doing here?” she asked, stance defensive. Harry shrugged, palms held upwards imploringly.

“Like I’ve said.” He half-smiled apologetically. “I don’t know.”

“You needn’t hold up your façade in front of me, _Evans_ ,” Annabeth said, and she could hear the hostility in her voice. “Or should I even call you that?”

The half-smile on Harry’s face faded, and something dark crept into his eyes, his face hardening. Gone was the friendly teenage boy, so bewildered and enchanted by the new knowledge of the world around him. Emerging from behind the mask was the person that she had read about. The one who was meant to save the world. A coward. 

“What did you say?” he said, a hush in his voice. Annabeth kept her chin high, her own blazing into his.

“Your name,” she said, “isn’t really Harry Evans, is it?”

“Then what is it?” The words sounded like a threat, but they baited her, dogging her steps.

Her voice dropped to a whisper, words meant for his ears only.

“ _Harry Potter._ ”

The breath which Harry – _Potter_ – had appeared to be holding was released in a sudden gust. Almost as if he were relieved to hear somebody say it. He rested his head in a hand, before dragging the fingers through his hair, looking so much older than his age in that instant.

“Yes,” he breathed. “ _Yes_ , that is my name. That is my name, that is who I am.” It sounded as though he was reassuring himself of that fact.

 _You truly are mad_. Annabeth wondered if it had been the right decision to initiate this confrontation when they were all alone in the night.

“Why did you come here?” Annabeth demanded. “To drag more innocents into that old war of yours, then abandon them, just like the rest?”

Potter didn’t acknowledge the second part of her question.

“Who knows?” he said, and a high, keening sound escaped the back of his throat – a desperate, deranged giggle. “Fate’s hand of cards has always been unpredictable.”

“You can’t stay here,” Annabeth said.

“Got nowhere else to go,” replied Potter, and his voice was empty. “I’ll leave when I can, but first–”

“When you _can_?” Annabeth said shrilly. “You can _now_! Before you hurt anybody else! Don’t you see what a fine line you’re dancing on right now? If you stay, you’ll drag the demigods into your wizarding war – and two dimensions _cannot_ collide, not ever! It’s never happened before, and this is _not_ going to be the first time, not on my watch!”

“My wizarding war?” Potter repeated glumly. “It’s no longer a war, not today. The battle’s been fought, and won. That’s why I’ve… I’ve got to go back. I’ve got to fix everything.”

Annabeth looked at him then, looked at him properly for the first time. And she wondered.

“What happened to you?” she asked, more to herself, when suddenly Potter’s eyes slid into focus and they absorbed Annabeth’s face.

“Who have you told?” he asked bitterly, and she shook her head silently.

“No one,” she murmured. “The less people who know… the better.”

“How do _you_ know?” Potter finally took a step towards Annabeth, a slow, measured step. “If our worlds are so separate, how did you figure it out?”

Annabeth swallowed.

“My mother, months ago, gifted me with a book,” she said. “A book which can replicate every published piece of work out there. I asked it for publications on Britain and wizards. On James Potter and Lily Potter-Evans. I finally found _The Daily Prophet_. And I… I read. A lot. You’ve had a very exciting schooling, haven’t you?”

Potter cracked a smile then.

“You could say that,” he said.

“You were their hero,” Annabeth continued wonderingly. “The Boy-Who-Lived. The Saviour. Prophesied to defeat Lord Vol– him. You braved the tides of criticism and anger when people didn’t believe that he had returned. You kept your head held high, proved them wrong. And that I very much respect.”

Potter raised his eyes to hers, as if disbelieving, and Annabeth felt her eyes harden.

“But then you ran,” she said. “You ran, when things looked most dire, and you never came back. Knowing full well that you were the only one who could defeat the reigning darkness. And look at how many people have died, how many lives have been shattered.”

Potter was shaking his head now. Had been shaking his ever since Annabeth started speaking again.

“It’s not true,” he whispered brokenly.

“You ran away from the war, when things began to look most difficult,” she spat. “Like a coward, with your tail between your legs. You were on a quest to defeat _him_ , weren’t you? With those other two. You _knew_ how to defeat him. You could have done it. You _should_ have done it. And now the whole wizarding world is crushed.”

“Why do you care?” Potter had turned away from her, and an emotion that she could not pinpoint was bubbling beneath his surface. “You knew nothing about my world until today, yet you speak to me as if I’m the most disgusting thing you have ever laid eyes on.”

“Because despite not knowing it, the world of demigods has always been intertwined with the world of wizards.” Annabeth took in a deep breath of air. “It’s not only _you,_ Harry Potter, who has ever been tasked with protecting such vast numbers of people. I have. Percy has. Jason and Piper and Nico and countless others have. But you didn’t have the guts, not even when you had a team of people who cared behind you. There are so many _lives_ that you sacrificed when you fled. Hundreds of thousands of _lives_ that depended on you to help steer them to a better place–”

“ _Why did they depend on me_?” Potter roared suddenly, making Annabeth jump as he turned on her. “ _I was just a boy, I still am just a boy, the weight of all of those lives on my shoulders was so great, I…_ demigods are raised to be heroes, you were raised to be a hero, but I wasn’t, I don’t know how to.” He fell to his knees, burying his face in his hands. His voice was muffled between his fingers. “I was raised to be a servant and a punching bag, and then when I was eleven all of these new responsibilities were thrust into my hands and I wasn’t _ready._ I tried my best, but my best wasn’t good enough. I don’t know what happened, but if I could go back and do it again, I would.”

Annabeth looked down at Potter, and something akin to doubt flickered in her mind.

_A servant and a punching bag?_

This boy did not seem like a person who would flee from a fight, as _The Daily Prophet_ had painted him as. Perhaps Rita Skeeter was wrong…

“What did you say?” Potter’s face emerged from his hands, eyes tearless as he slowly brought his gaze to Annabeth’s.

“Me?” she frowned, then realised that she had spoken aloud. “Oh, I was just… the articles that I read about the war…”

“That name,” he said, voice beginning to shake. “That name…”

“Rita Skeeter,” Annabeth said carefully, and Potter’s brow furrowed, this time in anger. A new light shone in his eyes.

“ _Damn_ that cow to hell!” he snarled. “I did _not_ abandon everybody! I apparated, and then I splinched under that pine tree, and then I was twelve years into the future… I swear, I didn’t run, Annabeth!”

“Slow down,” Annabeth snapped, barely keeping up with him. “You _apparated_?”

“It’s like,” Potter paused, then said, “teleportation.”

“You teleported here?” Annabeth repeated. “Twelve years into the future?”

“Apparently!” Potter shook his head. “Last I remember, it was 1997. I don’t know, I really don’t know how any of this makes sense. At first, from the way you were talking about me, I thought that it was true, and a memory charm had been placed on me or something, but if it was Skeeter talking, I very highly doubt that her words were the truth. Because Skeeter is… well, she’s _Skeeter_.”

“Old wounds?” Annabeth supposed. “Bad blood?”

“Read much about the Triwizard Tournament I was in?” Potter asked, and Annabeth sighed, slightly put off.

“I’m not a miracle worker,” she said, “I didn’t read _everything_ , there wasn’t enough time.”

“Then let me abbreviate it. Yes, there are old wounds and bad blood,” Potter said sharply. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter anymore. I plan on changing whatever happened twelve years ago.”

“Yes, well,” Annabeth said, “ _how_?”

“I’m going to finish what I started.”

“Which is?”

“Hunting horcruxes.” Potter didn’t bother explaining what a horcrux was. “Ron and McGonagall told me to stay away, but I’m not going to do that. I’m going to have to go undercover, and find and destroy the horcruxes, and… no, I can’t do that yet, I’ll _identify_ the horcruxes, figure out where they’re hidden, then go back in time and destroy them there. Simple.”

“Not simple at all, Potter,” Annabeth said. “How do you plan on going back in time?”

“I dunno,” was the vague response. “I’m sure something will pop up along the way.”

“Time warps do not just ‘pop up’.” Sometimes people could be so thick. “I mean, there is Chronos, but even among gods and goddesses, he – or she – is little more than legend. Hasn’t been seen since the beginning…”

“Who,” said Potter, “is Chronos?”

“The God of Time,” Annabeth said, “but nowadays, more referred to as a personification of time. Who supposedly doesn’t exist.”

“That’s rich,” Potter said, having latched onto this new concept, “coming from a demigod. So say if I _found_ this Chronos…”

“Give it up.” Annabeth glared at him. “Don’t lose sleep over Chronos. It would be like looking for God.”

“Haven’t you met a god before?” Potter asked.

“Not a god,” Annabeth repeated. “ _God_. With a capital ‘g’.”

“Oh.” Potter raised his eyebrows. “Chronos is on the same level of myth as God?”

“ _Yes_.” Annabeth massaged her temple. “ _Di immortales,_ is it drilled into your head yet?”

“I mean, yeah,” Potter said, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m not up for a quest to find God, you know. Kind of out of my league.”

Annabeth pursed her lips.

“So, what are we going to do?” she asked.

“Well,” Potter began, then cut off, a sly smile crossing his mouth. “Wait, did you just say ‘we’?”

“I did,” Annabeth agreed, fighting the flush climbing up her face. “Look, it’s a little hard to learn about this twisted story of yours and not stick around to find out how it ends, you know. And besides,” she added, fully aware that she was beginning to babble in an attempt to justify herself, “I’m trying to keep you from dragging the rest of the demigods into this mess with you, and if you went off alone, you’d surely do exactly that. I’ll be the brain of this operation, obviously.”

Potter didn’t even seem to mind that she had just called him stupid.

“That was really unexpected,” he said. “You just went from blasting me for being a coward to teaming up with me.”

“Perhaps,” Annabeth said primly, examining her fingernails as though they were the most interesting things in the world, “my sources were a little defective. About you being a coward. We’ll see, Potter.”

Potter’s face split into the widest grin that Annabeth had ever seen. He positively radiated light, and in that moment, Annabeth could see why it was that people had called him their Saviour. The Golden Boy.

“Well,” he said, “if we’re going to be working together to save the wizarding world, we can’t have you calling me ‘Potter’ this whole time.”

“Why not?” Annabeth said. “Works perfectly fine for me.”

“Because only my enemies call me that,” Potter said. “And acquaintances.”

“We are acquaintances,” Annabeth said, quirking an eyebrow. Potter ignored the comment.

“Besides, if you start calling me that, won’t people become a little suspicious?” he pulled a face. “Where do you get ‘Potter’ from ‘Harry Evans’?”

“Point taken,” Annabeth said. “Alright then, Evans, we start work tomorrow.”

Resigned to remaining on last name basis, Potter turned away to leave, but Annabeth called after him before he could vanish around the corner.

“Wait,” she said, and he paused in his tracks. “Harry… goodnight.”

Because his back was turned, Annabeth never saw the smile which crept across his lips at her words.

“Goodnight, Annabeth,” he murmured in reply, before vanishing into the cool night air.

Annabeth stood a few moments longer, before lowering herself back into the grass and directing her gaze back to the stars.

They suddenly didn’t seem so far away anymore.

* * *

There were somethings that you couldn’t share with another person without becoming friends, Harry decided as he clambered back into his sleeping bag, his heart lighter than it had been in a long time. Knocking out a mountain troll was one. Another was standing in the night wearing nothing but pyjamas and sharing hostile words, then talking about the wizarding world falling to ruin before coming to a decision to save it together.

Yes, Harry thought. That definitely warranted being added to Harry Potter’s Exclusive List Of Ways To Make Friends.

* * *

Four cabins away, a bead of swear dribbled down Percy Jackson’s temple as he dreamed a dream that he would forget by morning.

“Harry,” he mumbled, turning over. “Harry Potter…”

No more words were spoken for another ten seconds, before he cried out, “Lotus Hotel!” and simultaneously sat up ramrod straight, jolting himself out of sleep.

Licking chapped lips with a dry tongue, Percy scrubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands and furrowed his brow as he tried to recall what had woken him.

A person waving a stick or something at Harry, dragging the green-eyed boy outside, and then Harry beneath Thalia’s pine tree, bleeding… it was all very vague in Percy’s memory, and was as difficult to catch as smoke in his hands. Within moments, it was gone.

Without giving the dream a second thought, he allowed sleep the lure him back into his clutches.

* * *

**Annabeth’s book? Total bullcrap, okay, but whatever.**

**Also, I know that a fraction of my audience here has made it known that they are not fans of slash, so I just thought to tell you that no, this is not what some may refer to as a ‘gay story’. Besides, Harico is only _one pairing. ONE._ What’s Percabeth? What’s Jasper? Did those ships turn into wallpaper when my back was turned or something? **

**Anyway, this is not some romantic flick. My plot is not centred around sexual tension or whatnot – if that’s what you’re looking for, then this is not for you. This is a story of _friendship_. And Harry and Percy’s total bromance. Hahahahaha. Yep. Because it will be a bromance, totally. As in, Frodo-and-Sam, Arthur-and-Merlin, Sherlock-Holmes-and-Dr-Watson bromance. I’m gonna have so much fun here… *crazed cackling* **

 

**~Black Cat Widow~**


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